Before I get more off tangent I'm going to go back to a Friday night. Kari, Will, Lucia, and I are driving from the Covey Arts Center in Provo to Noodles & Co. when I slip into a role of pointing out things to the kids in order to keep them in a good mood and perhaps teach them about their surroundings. The road curves and I see the familiar sign for The Mending Shed. "Lucia and Will look at the wood on that building. Do you know where that wood came from?" I stop. I can't say it because the tears are welling in my eyes and I'm the driver. Kari looks over at me and steps in to explain that the wood came from their Great Great Grandpa Huntsman's farm in Idaho.
When I visited my sisters Keeley and Alex in Kanab this March I started to cry for how happy I was to have this chance to hang out in the kitchen chatting and playing with the kids or the animals talking and talking and talking. I stay up late whenever they come to visit. I tell them every new story I have- and a few they've heard before. I cry when I hug them a little longer and a little tighter and tell them I love them.
For Mother's Day Lucia gave me a card where (with a little help) she had written, "I love you!" It was so sweet and of course tears welled up. However, I accept that I'm emotional and moved to tears at times. I just might stock up on tissues though.
