I've found a home here

On Motherhood: The slow, unglamorous rhythm of motherhood.

“It’s snowing!” I shouted to your dad.

I wrapped myself in layers and bundled you in a blanket. Your dad grabbed his camera and his Stetson and beat us out the door. I slid my film camera into the deep pocket of my thrift-store coat and tied the strings of a wool bonnet under your chin. We took photos in the front yard against the dark wood of the old b…