Monday, August 21, 2017

And still counting (10,800-10,853)

home days--Saturday, Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday
slow days
the aches and pains
the tears
the tensions melting away
a chat with Jill

a field book, free, on backyard birds
a Dickens book
chips for my sister
her smile to see me
my happy heart to see her

a friend at the pool
hours in chat
losses and hopes
good sleep
forgiveness

Marshall's Mom!
her kiddos spilling out of the car
pool splashes
and the littlest one down the slide again and again!
lunches al fresco

the friendship mug
good talks
the eyes of a friend
and the safety to be myself
chicken lettuce wraps with red grapes

that man of mine
hugs from my kiddos
a read aloud on the couch with Erin
Friday at home and no transportation
catching glimpses of this heart reemerging

a fall photoshoot on the calendar
Michi in the rain
a bushel of apples
baked apples in the oven
cuddles with Erin after her scare

Miss Pat's hug at the store
a car in the shop
mandatory stay-home days
an off week resulting in a week off
a vacuumed car

the directors' meeting
a chat with Casi
pizza cooked and waiting for me when I got home
a favorite shampoo
ice water in a tumbler

the message, for someone who needed to hear it
and my husband, who pointed it out to me
peace
amazing grace
a mention of appreciation

texts with Wendy
a meal for a friend
feeling restored

Thursday, August 17, 2017

Day story

August


Outside my window, the sun is shining on a day that forecast thunderstorms. The air is summery thick. A bike's handlebar tassels twist in a breeze, bouncing back light. Hoppy balls nestle in the grass. Chalk drawings pop here and there. Pool inflatables tower high. All evidence of summer fun.

Giving thanks for friends through the years and the different seasons we walk. That lives are united under the most unexpected circumstances, and in some cases by magic tricks. This windy life road would not nearly be as lovely without her, her friendship, her family. She has held me up more often than she knows with her encouragement and listening heart. And she has pushed me back into the ring just as often. She has grit--and enough to share.

In the school room, coffee scents waft from the kitchen. Books soar stacked. And Erin, eagerly writes a new pen pal. I smile across the table at her, for the years that knit our family together with theirs.

From the kitchen, lunch dishes on the counter and opened chocolate bars for sampling. The kids and I finished off the last of the brownies. A rainbow of cups stretch stacked from thirsty kids. The little glass pitcher makes even the wee ones feel grown up.

I am full, and full in a way that is rich and satisfied. Time together, my love language.

I don't want to forget the years we mamas shared pushing little ones on swings in a big green field. The kiddos and juice cups and big slices of banana chocolate chip bread. The friendships growing and kids growing. And even now, growing on, and how a play set seems smaller with our littles growing up.

Around the house, Erin colors. I type. Lanie reads. A cat looks out the door. I am glad for a week that slowed me down--for car troubles and aches and pains and ailments. I am glad for a slower pace--and in the process the tension melted away. Yesterday I read aloud to Erin on the couch, and we reconnected in lasting way, in a summer that had me in too many directions, and none of them present--always looking ahead, or looking back. And if this is the only week I remember of this summer, then at least it was a good one--even with car troubles and aches and pains and ailments. 

I'm hearing the hushing sound of air conditioning. And it is good.

A view of my favorite things:
Comet--twenty pounds of punk

A turtle came to visit

Celebrating six years

boxes in the mail

the ammo bag turned field bag for nature studies

the electric kettle

At the studio to order dance shoes

At the table, a marble composition notebook and making meals and making plans. I am happy. I am grateful. My heart sings loud and strong and full of color. Oh, can I be back now?

Monday, August 14, 2017

And still counting (10,767-10,799)

vacations, rained out
a check-engine light
a tire with a slow leak
all plans canceled

an impromptu sleepover for the girls
popcorn with nacho seasoning
a movie night at home
sleep
B vitamins

coffee
doctor appointments with my sister
good care for her
her smile
a new planner (the composition notebook that can hold up under the daily assault)

the cold, juicy sweetness of watermelon
the summer writing workshop
messages with Suzanne
David's phone call
Linda, in my heart

photobooks of memories
calls from Marshall's Mom
tea with Rebecca
raw honey
an electric kettle in the mail

scriptures, encouragement
crickets
iced coffee
camera 2
Erica

Andrea
Erin's love note
a good message on hope
three weeks of summer left