Friday, time to crack open the chocolate ice cream and unscripted version of beautiful you!


Got five minutes? Let’s write. Let’s finger paint with words –>{click to tweet}.

Let’s just write and not worry if it’s just right or not. Here’s how to play along:

1. Write for 5 minutes flat for pure unedited love of the written word.
2. Link back here and invite others to join in {you can grab the button code in my blog footer}.
3. Go leave some comment props for the five minute artist who linked up before you.

It’s a great way to catch your breath at the end of a long week.

OK, are you ready? Let’s see your best five minutes for the prompt:

In between


You’ve carried boxes back and forth between the mini van and our old house and the new house for weeks now. You’ve been up early and in bed late and up early again when I forgot the plumber was scheduled for 6:30 am and you pulled on shorts while I just gratefully rolled over knowing you’d take care of it.

More than four but less than ten streets over. We’re starting again. Or picking up and walking across and into this next chapter – hands lifted high in wonder and awe. I have so much to say about this house I don’t know where to begin. Five minutes is a good start though to describing a five year journey. There are boxes and bean bags and your glasses out on the kitchen counter. I nearly forgot to bring my favorite candle holder out of the old, seventies style fire place. It’s here now tonight at my feet. But not in the new place yet. Because these are the in between days. The picturing and envisioning and unpacking and just lying at night surrounded by clothes I haven’t got hangers for yet full of so much gratitude it presses down on my chest and makes breathing hard and wonderful at the same time.

These are the days of miracle and wonder. This is a long distance call.

I’ve lived in the tension of homesick as long as I can remember. I treat with you and your kids and your family. And the ache eases as I ease another box open and there are the photos of the year we sent our first Christmas card together. When were we both that thin? I wore Adidas flip flops and glasses that whole first year of law school and you ate pizza every night.

I’m home just now from dinner with girlfriends and slices of cheese cake to celebrate her birthday and their are open pizza boxes all over the counter and three stools where I know you fed our children your favorite.

These are the days of miracle and wonder. And living in the now and not the in between.