27 May, 2013

So Let The Memories Be Good For Those Who Stay


So last week Steven held a good bye party for someone at work and brought this huge, delicious Wegman's chocolate cake (west coasters - Wegman's is like the Von's of the East, but better). Lucky for me, he and only one other person even eat chocolate cake so the whole enormous thing was brought home on my lap mid-afternoon after running some errands. The kids were sticky and sad; the rain had forced us out of the park prematurely and all their swinging was cut short. Pulling them out of the park before their instinctual clocks tell them that the time is up is like the worst crime anyone can commit. They were feeling down. The down-ness manifested itself in the sad way they picked up their trains and didn't even make the 'choo-choo' sounds.

The clouds parted for a few minutes and the sun beat through the big windows.

I looked at the cake. I looked at the kids. I looked at the porch.

We sat on the deck and shared a behemoth slice. In between bites, Gage would take a messy swallow of milk, jump down and fall into the grass. When I say 'grass' I mean the boonies. Our back yard is a painfully unkempt wilderness of tall grass, furry dandelions and clusters of yellow and purple flowers. We just need to break down and buy a dang lawn mower, but there's something magical about it all back there. The kids feel it too - they'll lie down and peek at each other through the clumps of green.

Anyway, it was kind of one of those moments where you think, "I love mortality."

The sun hid behind storm clouds and soon there were deep rumbles that rushed both kids back into my arms. They took a long, warm bath and could barely stay awake while I lotioned their little feet and sang along to Mumford and Sons.

The storm eventually broke through whatever resistance had kept it at bay for so long, and I think the rat-a-tat of rain on the roof and the purring of the thunder lulled them into an unusually deep sleep because they both woke up happy and rested.

Some days, things just work out. Pieces fit together. Memories make themselves without being forced or planned or even really hoped for. They just happen.



6 comments:

  1. This post is so eloquently written. Your descriptions create a beautiful little movie that I just watched while reading this. Perhaps this is why I love reading books! :)

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    1. Thanks Kati! That is SO nice of you!

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  2. I love those kind of evenings- it made me all homesick for similar memories with my own kids- I am always so glad when you share little moments like this.

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    1. Thanks Mary! It's the little moments where they aren't killing each other that make it all worth it ;)

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