It’s 5:30 in the morning. We are up, but you are sound asleep, and have been since 7pm last night. You slept like a champ last night, too bad your Dad and I didn’t.

It began with a neighbor’s barking dog just as I was drifting off to sleep. That lasted for over an hour, of which there was no respite. I kept reading “A People’s HIstory of the United States” hoping it would be so boring as to overcome my annoyance with the dog, but it only served to pique my interest and keep me reading well past when the whining dog was silenced. Hopefully by a gun. No, I take that back, I don’t mean any serious harm to Fresco, the 14 year old blind sheep dog next door, just maybe a little harm to his owner for leaving him alone like that.

I hate being such a light sleeper. It’s such a curse.

But something I DO love, is peanut butter and honey on sprouted grain toast with tea in the morning. It’s one of my favorite things on this planet. I don’t know why, but it just makes me happy to have it. It’s my comfort food. And unfortunately for me, at the moment, I am out of my favorite tea, The River Shannon blend from Upton Tea Imports. I am slumming it with PJ Tips. It’s not the same. I am a loose leaf lovin lady. It makes a big difference. Your Dad doesn’t drink any black tea anymore, he’s purely herbal. What a stud. I wish I had his discipline. He has a pretty good motivator though, his mental health.

So here we sit, your Dad and I, in the wee hours of the morning, while you lay snoozing down below. It’s Easter Weekend, or Passover weekend, depending on your religious proclivities, of which we have none. You can make that choice for yourself when you are old enough. I think spirituality is the way. Works for me. But I still struggle, not with the notion of “God” but the word. Even just reading last night, what savage tragic brutal things people historically have done in the name of…makes me feel sick inside. Thank God I can have my own God.

We are taking you to your very first Easter Egg hunt at Paramahansa’s Mother Hub up the street later. I feel so lucky that we live so close to such a beautiful place. I read his “Autobiography of a Yogi” when I was 12 and traveling through India to visit his Ashram in Ranchi. I don’t remember a single thing from it, but I do remember the homemade chapati’s the woman made for us while we stayed in her home near the Ashram. And I also remember one song the monk’s would sing during the morning meditation I would sleep through (I was only 12, remember). I sang it to you in my belly. You might remember it- it goes like this:

Who is in my temple?
Who is in my temple?
All the doors do open themselves.
All the lights do light themselves.
All the doors do open themselves.
All the lights do light themselves.
Darkness like a dark bird, flies away, oh flies away.
Darkness like a dark bird, flies away, oh flies away.
repeat

I sing this when I am scared.

Okay little bug, it’s almost 7am now and you are finally sitting up and practicing your vowels and consonants.

I’m coming down.

I’m gonna kiss you all over.

Love,

Mom