Weekend.

The house is slightly quiet in the absence of my sister and her husband's departure this morning. I feel the pressure of not knowing what day it is all the time just a little now. It's easier to keep track when you have other people to remind you.
I love slowness.
I'm realizing that more and more as I age in my youth and step hesitantly into adulthood. I like moving slow. I prefer it. I'm comfortable in it. And I'm learning that I will be satisfied with it when someone turns to me and says, let's slow down together. Let's slow way down. It's the simpler things that I'm tempted to indulge in as they entice me. Walking. Drip coffee. Three hour long dinners. Warm knits. Mornings. Porcelain tea pots. Linen.  All that, and more.
I am becoming me.
And the best thing is, I know someone somewhere else is too, becoming them. And we'll meet one day, and turn to one another and say, you? You learned who you are already? Well isn't that just perfect. 
And it will be.
Slow, and perfect. In a human way.

My brother-in-law turned twenty-two today. We celebrated with peach breakfast cake and blue candles lit twice.