"Hope is a waking dream"- Aristotle
A friend gave me this cup for Fiona Hope's first birthday. So fitting because the word Hope is a huge part of my little girl, beyond just the name. I read this every morning as I enjoy my now necessary cup of coffee (and every afternoon with my necessary second wind cup of coffee). I read it, and say it over and over to my self, but I haven't been able to wrap my head around what exactly it means.
Fiona is talking a lot. So much, she even told her PT "I don't want to"or... at least it sounded just like she said that. Just like it sounds like she says "Ya" at just the right moments where it makes sense, she mutters "Ma-ma" when she wants to snuggle, and when she is really tired and ready for a bottle, she cries "ba-ba", all very inconsistently. Its borderline communication. Hard to tell how much of it is intentional, and how much is just that she loves the sound of her own voice. Kinda like she loves the sight of her own face. This girl could live in front of the mirror.
I long for fall-like weather. In hopes that it will be a nice,cool, breezy day, I dress as if I am in Michigan and then I am cursing in my head all morning wishing I had at least a hair tie to relieve my self from the 90 degree weather I am wearing jeans in. It has dropped down into the high 80s, and even that little bit of relief has tricked my mind into it feeling more like fall. I stole a Kelle Hampton craft, made some spiders with the kiddos, and have already hung a web filled with spider rings in our front window. I live for Halloween, but the PG version. Not so much into the scary, gory, demonic aspect. Spiders are scary enough for me.
I have to admit, while my heart aches for the weather you Northerners get these next three months, its nice to still be enjoying the pool. We go a little less and far between, but the option is there. Palm trees with the back drop of clear blue skies takes center stage instead of the rustic hues of falling leaves. Well, sometimes clear blue skies scattered with random rain clouds. But still, mostly sunny days. And the leaves change here, just not as noticeably or grandly. It doesn't really cool off (and by that I mean 70s) here till well into November. So until then, water-filled activities and toasting our skin with the suns rays will remain a part of our daily life.
A waking dream. The moment, where you are still dreaming, but you are aware of it. When you can still hold onto all the emotion and reality while knowing that its just thoughts. Hope is a waking dream. An intense thought that feels real. An idealized version of reality. I hope that Fiona's muttering is true communication. I hope that 80 degrees truly feels like 60. And I am going to fake sleep as long as I can to keep that feeling going as long as possible.