There's something about this picture I love.
I've seen it in my mind for days now and finally had to capture it.
This worn corner of the table is where Claire sits. The left side even more worn from her little left hand which she favors.
It captures this phase of our lives...
Dried oatmeal I scrape off so many times a week.
It's worn, like us.
Sleep deprived and not as young as we were at the start of this journey.
But more beautiful for being on it.
More beautiful by being rubbed raw and bare.
Motherhood does this to you I think.
Rubs a hole in your heart so you no longer can hold any love back.
Worn; in the most beautiful way...