For some reason we always end up celebrating Middlest's birthday over a scattering of days. This is strange - this regular fractured dislocation of her day. Especially when her birth of them all was the most peaceful, focused, and whole - an island of grace and peace in an otherwise dark and stormy time.
Her birth, my second time rowing across that lake of mortality, second time diving down to bring up that magic flower, eternal blossom of life. And she herself an everlasting and blessed mystery. Her unreadable glance. Her sudden generous outpouring.