Today was the red of the apple you dropped as you fell asleep after lunch. It was the poems I read in the shade of the washing as you slept, and the shadows of clothes dancing a jig on the line. It was the curl of your eyelashes, and light on bubbly washing-up water, and the way the sun caught your hair as we sat eating biscuits in the field.
It was all the words we thought up to describe how much we liked our chicken casserole, and watching you eat seconds, and then thirds, and the noises we made when we were full down to our toes and the way we prodded each other to make sure there was no room left hidden behind our knees. It was the dozens and dozens of things we thought about and talked about as we passed our day, like if horses liked crisps (no), and what happens to water when it goes down the drain (it goes up a pipe to the sky and falls down again).
That was today, little bear, and it was wonderful.