the perfect storm

In my former life I read books. 

I read book after book, practically inhaling each page. Over time the stories have come together, sometimes overlapping, pieced together in my memory to form a haphazard version of a literary quilt. 

Looking back, I can see that there was a franticness about the way I read. As if I subconsciously knew what was to come.

What came were babies.  Two babies. Ten months apart.  A virtual whirlwind of diapers and formula and onesies and bottles.  This storm I live in is beautiful. Somedays I marvel at it's magnitude. Somedays I cower. 

I find, lately,  that my literary quilt is getting holes.  Parts of stories are gone. Names of characters and dates and places are eroding.

I think it is time to patch things up. I think I will pick up a book.

I should have done it sooner. The best way to weather a storm is with a good book and a comfy quilt.