It is June now but it feels like early spring, raw and rainy, like we're all just waiting for the first buds to open up out of the ground. It is June now and something has happened to my wrist. In the mornings it aches and collapses under pressure, like I've sprained it, maybe. By midday, though, it's nearly back to normal. This has been happening for weeks and I have no idea why.

It is June now and my baby is getting so old, so big, that each day she becomes brand new to me. Each day she is a marvel.

It is June now. My birthday month, but who's counting?

It is June now and I'm behind on lots of things, but knowing that doesn't make it any easier to catch up. When I look back on these past few months -- working, momming, writing, podcasting, traveling, trying to breathe -- all I remember is the rushing.

Now it is June and I am hoping for some stillness, some time.