Tuesday

I turn forty in a few weeks. I am okay with it, truly. Glad of it, in fact. Turning forty means I somehow survived my thirties. I am working on something, a retrospective of the past decade. I am thinking of giving each year its own space, bound in its own specific sentences. It will not be an easy task. It has been a long decade, a hard one wrought with loss and woven with joy. I learned a lot. More than I thought I needed to know. I gave birth to two babies in this decade. Moved more times…

Friday

In the mornings, I wake my children up to The Breakfast Song. Then, while they eat breakfast, it is Jazz Classics (Blue Note). If we are all in the house for lunch, it is Beethoven’s piano sonatas. And to tell them dinner is on the table, it is always John Coltrane’s Blue Train. At bedtime, it is Max Richter’s Sleep. These five stages of the day accompanied by a predictable soundtrack. Do they tire of it, you ask? I honestly don’t think it phases them anymore (except for The Breakfast Song but that is only because they are not morning…