Sandbagging

letting the weight of transformation soothe

The silence of suckling to sleep is vaguely reminiscent of the tranquil sounds at the river. The rushing water over rocks, the carrying away of sands and shells of freshwater clams. The subtle sound of dipping your hand in the water and pulling it out again. Her body is nourished by her mother's milk. Her mother is nourished by the soothing sounds of the natural world.

The constant erosion of river rocks and the surrounding land inspires me to be grounded amidst the constant but inconsistent transformation that motherhood brings. As of late, the conversation of weaning has demanded my gracious attention.