The other night, I went for a walk that was one tenth of one mile. I heard a small baby crying. I heard a plane fly by overhead. I heard my daughter singing while my husband played guitar. I heard sprinklers sprinkling. I walked down the block and back in my slippers under a perfect crescent moon, slung low on the horizon while bees made their way to the honeysuckle and mock orange blossoms in our backyard before the trip back home. . . where ever that may be for them.
Yesterday, I woke up early and went for a run under clear blue skies with views of snow-capped mountains and mirror-like water out on the strait. I went for a run. . . no pain, no issues, no drama for the first time in nearly two months. Abby slept until almost 10 am, as she’s been doing for the last week or so.
We headed to the lake for a midday splash with dear friends, and a stop at the local soft-serve dive. We arrived home at the heat of the day. I just let her lounge about watching movies and Phineas and Ferb for the better part of the afternoon.
Because we could.
After a summer of un-chosen service away from home last year, I’m finding even the most simple bits of a summer on our beloved peninsula full of gold. They say heaven can’t exist without hell, that goodness can’t be known without badness.
I say that beauty exists always, but is more simply appreciated in contrast to a dark or difficult backdrop.
I’ve missed two summers here at home (Tom’s brain tumor, and last summer) out of twelve. Missing them makes LIVING it now all the more precious. I’m happy to be a yes-mom, to buy the ice cream, to let her watch one more show, to blast the Katie Perry in the car on the way to 4-H, to allow an extra (virgin!) Rhubarb Sky just before bed, to stay quiet when I notice she’s still reading at nearly 11pm.
I have been picking and eating the raspberries directly off the bush as they ripen. I berry-stain my shirt from the haste of gobbling them down before they break apart right there between my fingers. All warm and ripe with immediacy.
The urgency of last summer is deeply contrasted for me by the languid savoring of this summer. Each day is a gift, no matter the circumstances or time of year of other easy distractions. But these summer days of 2014? GIFTS (all caps) because I am feeling each bit in it’s entirety.
I am devouring the light right now and it is good.
Lip smacking, juice-down-the-chin, last bit of a s’more GOOD.