We stayed in Flagstaff for a weekend with the Campos family. Sleepless nights, glorious pine-scented days, time spent with those we've come to call family. You won't remember any of it, and how I wish I could bottle it all to save. The specific blueish-green of meadow grass on Mt. Humphreys; yours and Vivian's fat baby legs dangling down from the ergos, carried high on your daddies' backs; the sky riddled with clouds; the light filtering greenly through the forest; conversations about life and love and hope; the overly-bright laughter of two exhausted babies; joy punctuating every moment. Pure bliss.

We wake early Saturday morning and set out for the Kachina Peaks Wilderness. We hike into the start of the Mt. Humphreys trail, and on the way out you girls and the guys go on ahead and Ana and I fall behind at the scenery's beckoning and take a million photos and laugh the way women do when they feel like girls again. Afterwards we drive back into town and find Thai food while rain-heavy clouds gather overhead. Ana and I walk to the nearest grassy spot and attempt to nurse you girls amidst the bustle of downtown Flag. You have denied me the past few days, and once again you push me away when I offer to nurse. It breaks my heart just a little. Afterward we stop in for coffee. Pride signs are everywhere. The girl at the counter thinks Ana and I are a couple. The wait is long, but the coffee is good. At night we take a drive to find marshmallows and you finally drift  to sleep in the gentle rocking of the car. You manage to sleep in your bed for a few hours and the rest of us crowd around the fire pit and make s'mores. The wind howls through the trees, the air is electric and smells of damp pine and rain. Ana's hair blows bright in the wind and firelight. We talk of everything. I feel everything. It is everything I hoped. And then you wake and can't find sleep again. We watch the beginnings of an old movie but you and I move back to our bedroom for another fitful night with small moments of loveliness when you sleep curled beside me like you're my tiny baby once again.

June 27, 2015