It’s a big week here – one boy with a collar bone broken from wrestling with friends, one graduating from high school – and lots of sweetness inbetween like. . . .
high school soccer games in the evenings (District Game tomorrow night)
sitting with moms I’ve sat with for years
in fold-out canvas chairs
sunlight spilling on my porch,
purple, lavender and orange sherbet johnny-jump-ups
raising their face petals in greeting
hydrangea, butterfly bushes, blue buttons
spiders-knots, zinnia, poppy and daisy shoots
stretching upward, green-ward
“Look at the robin’s egg blue sky,” I told my son with the broken collar-bone,
on the way home from the doctor. I’m avoiding bumps and pot-holes, but what mom can avoid all of them, on the road, in our talks, in the living.” “Isn’t it beautiful?”
“You know – the sky’s not really blue,” He says, and we look at each other.
“What about the fluffy clouds,” I counter, floating across the sky.
“Clouds are just water,” he says, a smile hovering, not quite wanting to show itself.
As the car climbs up the hill, past the water tower, I smile right back at him – one eye on the road, one on him, “But God didn’t make ugly water towers to hold rain – He made clouds to hold water – How awesome is that!”
Two red birds stood together in my yard, near the butterfly bush. A cardinal splashed in my bird bath, flinging water droplets onto my zinnias shoots.
A tiramisu trifle is half-eaten in the fridge, just waiting for one of the boys to stop by and finish it off. A few left over pieces of grilled zucchini with rotel diced tomatoes, mozzarella and parmesan cheese, and garlic are sealed in the fridge for tomorrow’s lunch.
Better Boys and German pinks sit on the porch waiting to be planted, along with dill, jalapenos and cucumbers.
A volunteer carrot and chard are waiting for dinner Friday night – volunteers from last years garden.
Sadie, she’s learning to sit and stay, to ring the bell on the door to go outside, to find snuggly places for cat naps.
Coffee in the pot at 5 p.m. – and my boys milling about – coming in the back door, going out. My sweet Mother-in-Law here for the week.
The sweetness between brokenness and soaring
A little healing, a releasing to soar, family gathering together to celebrate
It’s a Blessings-and-Faith kind of week – filled with things that need to be savored.
Still counting gifts – 1001- 1034