The common is so ridiculously beautiful. I try to capture it when I smell the baby's hair and hug their growing boy bodies. When I kiss them goodnight and their plain faced love looks out at me from the blankets. I love the tight choking lump in my throat when I hear the National Anthem, and the desperate feeling of pride in my family and country.
All these are common and should be captured and put in the Louvre. Mona's smile has nothing on my baby's. Her beauty pales in comparison to my sons' belly laughs and dirty dog smells after a hard day of play. I want to download their newborn cries on my iPod. Their first words are epic novels that I read again and again. These works of art take my breath away.
The bright green grass and a cool, Michigan, morning breeze through the kitchen windows while I make eggs. The commotion of motion of 3 "like-new, barely used" people running and jumping and spilling juice. My dog leaves archaeologically perfect footprints on the carpet, and nose print smears on the windows. I follow the trail of my love...sock by sock. I put my nose in his shirts and breathe in our history.
All these would leave no room for the works of Monet and Goya. Just room after room filled with the common, uncommon gorgelicious moments of my life.
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