-Dogwood trees in bloom during a North Carolina spring. We've had an unusually cold spring this year, but yesterday I turned into our neighborhood, after jetting to the grocery store with the boys, and audibly gasped when I saw the dogwoods in some stranger's yard. They were that beautiful. There's nothing like a whimsical dogwood tree. They are one of my favorite parts of the south. I love that they always burst into bloom right around the time some of their buddies are starting to get their actual foliage and lose their blossoms. It makes them that much more breathtaking.
-A baby who's finally mastered hands and knees crawling and is, therefore, exploring every corner of his habitat. A bit exhausting? Yes, but that grin he flashes me every time I squeal, "Everett! No, no, no, baby!" is just priceless.
Heaven smells like . . .
-Baby fat rolls lathered with sunscreen for a play date at the park.
-The scent of freshly cut grass that lingers all afternoon and evening on a Saturday. After Chad mowed our lawn on Saturday morning, the sound of lawn mowers was a constant din until the last light faded. One neighbor after another was completing the same chore. I loved it. It was the smell of summer sneaking around the corner.
Heaven sounds like . . .
-Everett's laughter. His sweet, little giggle fills my heart to over-brimming.
-Hearing a big brother say, "Ev-wett!" a million times a day while he patiently includes him in his play, even in a shopping cart at Sam's Club.
-The quiet hush drifting through our house after little ones have finally succumbed to sleep, both of them still and silent, caught up in their dreams.
Heaven feels like . . .
-Snuggling with Kaden to read Charlotte's Web, his head nuzzled lazily against my shoulder.
-Snagging your index finger on the ridge of a first tooth that finally popped through.
-The two full nights of sleep that follow a new tooth, after several sleepless nights with a teething baby.
Heaven tastes like . . .
-A slice of freshly baked wheat bread, warm from the oven, smothered with homemade strawberry jam.
-Free ice cream. On a sunny day. With friends.
Heaven is right here: on a drive home from the grocery store, at a park with friends, on my flour-dusted kitchen floor. So much to be thankful for.