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Leah Ferguson

Getting One Answer Right

  I was sitting on the steps that lead to the second floor of our house (it’s one of the places I go when I need to hide). I was doing something on my phone (incredibly life-affirming and positive, I’m sure, as all internet scrolling is) when Quinlan came bounding down the stairs. She stopped, sat down beside me, and wrapped her arms around me in one of her monkey hugs that drape and cling and demand that the hug-ee not leave such an embrace until Quinn is good and ready to disentangle herself.  When I could come up for air, she planted a kiss on my cheek. I smiled, remembering her as the baby who wouldn’t even sit beside me on the floor without a hand on my leg. “Do you know you’re one of my favorite people in the whole world?” I asked her. She was already on the first floor and headed to the kitchen. She shrugged. “I know,” she said, and continued on her way. I was left sitting on the steps, stunned by the nonchalance of her response. I know.  I…

Because the Mountain Will Always be There

Saoirse was home sick from school today, which meant no basketball practice for her tonight. David was off to Connecticut for work for a couple of days, so I held court at home, getting water and making eggs-in-a-nest and kissing warm foreheads. I snuck in some writing, but today, I did a lot of…sitting. And it was okay.We picked up Quinlan from school later this afternoon, and the ride home along the cold, wet streets was calm. Even Cian was quiet, for the most part, and Quinlan and Saoirse were tucked into the books they keep in the car. Back home, the simplicity continued: homework was out of the way early and kid pajamas were on by four. By 4:30 I’d abandoned plans to cook a chicken soup and placed an order for Panera delivery (one upside to living within walking distance to allllll of the chains). By 5:30, the kids had eaten, dinner had been cleaned up, and we were all under blankets in the living room, with a fire roaring and a candle lit and Ella Enchanted playing on the TV. Like Quinlan said, it was easy to…

I Swear to You I Just Yawned Typing This

Cian woke up yesterday beside me. He was stuffy with a cold and at some point in the middle of the night had crawled in between me and David for some hugs or comfort or the sheer pleasure of lying just so on top of both David and me so that we smothered from his weight, thereby insuring an early advance on the piddly inheritance we’d leave him. He sat straight up–it was 6:15 a.m.–and looked to the sunlight already breaking through the slats of the blinds over the bedroom windows. “Is it moe-ning?” he asked. His voice had a tone of awe to it one would think more aptly used by a person entering a grand cathedral, or seeing the Rockefeller Tree light up at Christmastime. I mumbled that yes indeed, darling, it was in fact the bright, bright, early morning, and I burrowed myself back deeper under the covers. But Cian would not be discouraged. He let out this sort of half-laugh, half-gasp: “I’ve been WAITING for it to be moe-ning!” I love my children. I admire them, and think…