He was in his chair and I on the sofa, both fast asleep. They came in and out and in and out and in and out of the house. (This place where we are, this place where they still need me but not all of my attention all of the time, deserves a few hundred words of its own). It’s been a long day preceded by two long nights. Marshall is doing as well as one can do after having an appendectomy in the middle of the night, but we are weary.
I stepped out onto the front porch for a little piece of peace. And, as usual, the homing signal went off and the little stinkers crowded around me, wanting to know what I was doing. We sat on the steps and saw something shinning at us from the sky. With SkyView app, binoculars, and a telescope in hand we went to seek answers.
It feels so delightfully perfect outside. The wind blows but can’t get the heaviness of the humidity off of my skin. It does bring in dreams of spring, lightnin’ bugs, and fresh cut grass. And they can feel it in the air, and it whooshes over their little big hearts with excitement that just can’t stop. In the dusk-to-dark they laugh and run and play. They race in pairs, in fair pairs, and they cheer for each other and it makes my chest thump with pride.
Marsh and I are mentally and physically exhausted. But their wild and wacky energy wound its way to me and lifted me slowly and carefully. I could do nothing but smile as I watched them race back and forth and back and forth and back and forth again.
(Lest you think our life is as pretty as this picture, I must confess that after a handful of these lovely little moments I was screaming a little too loudly. And by the time the tears of resistance came I was so frustrated I turned and walked away. With the good there is always the bad. How would we truly know one without the other?)