She's found my yarn supply and tears apart perfect skeins. Pulls my handspun yarn from its bobbin on my spinning wheel. It's a spiderweb on my bedroom floor. She finds my lost socks and collects them on her bed. I like having mismatched socks to pull on in the dark at 5:24 when she wakes me up every morning. And somehow her wiggling butt makes me not care.
I found a Bee hair lodged into the fibers of my fleece pajamas the other day when I was folding them. They had just gone through the wash. I have washed these pajamas already once since her death in September; so this hair found its way, wove itself into my fiber, sometime in the last couple of weeks. Too long to be an Ivy hair, Bee was making herself known. I miss her. We have moved on with this new wiggling butt, but I wonder how she and Bee would be together. Two black bundles of love hurling their way into my heart. But alas, Ivy now has her hair mixing into the corners of our hearts with all the others- Bee, Liebe, and Sydney's. Ivy likes Sydney's brown chair. I wonder if she smells Sydney's scent still there.
I have papers to grade, a stove top to clean, floors to mop, laundry to do. It's zero degrees out and too cold to play. And somehow her wiggling butt and peanut butter breath makes me not care.