Rest over. Back to work.

The weight of it; kids and responsibilities straining my back. 
It was good to get away, to stand up tall and to breathe.

I ached for them terribly by the end of the week. I missed them so much I wanted to spend money on them just to feel closer to them, to have a chance to shamelessly think about them.

We walked around the shops and we remembered our first trip with children, only 2 and only girls, and how they laughed at the water that shoots from the sidewalk like big water worms. They were so little then, curly hair and wide-eyed awe of princesses. This year I shop for them in the princess section and realize they are too old for much of it.

I want to go back to the hotel and finish the story I am writing for them but I just can't decide where it goes next. I think I'll need them to help me finish it.

It rains and I wish they were here to play with me in it.  It's the perfect rain for playing, heavy and warm, and rivers rush down alongside the curbs.  I remember introducing my first baby to Florida puddles before she could even walk.

My back is not sore any longer. 

I'm ready to go back to work, to carry them.

But first, 

before I put them all on my back,

I'll flip over stretch my arms out wide

and I'll feel the weight of the love of six children pressing down heavy and warm on my open heart.

I'll be welcomed home.