Pillow fights and Fencing Matches

My bed is an after bathtime playground. 
Home to rolling machine, pillow fights, and fencing matches. 

A dressing room for jammies and the final stop before the sleepy train leaves the station. 
A place where football collides with ballet dancing and tickle monsters evoke the joyous exuberance of youth spent preciously on the exact right people. 

It is an active participant in more physical activity than some city blocks see in a week. 
If I'm lucky, it's a small part of a legacy of love that my children will take and nurture and reap a harvest of more significance than I may ever hope to know. 


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