It feels like a Friday morning even though it's only Thursday, hot and dusty, dry and burning-bright. A day for long drives down familiar roads only to jump out and explore abandoned barns with glass bottles of orange crush, gulped down like water while I shake out polaroids and step on Lochlan's shoelaces, not paying attention, getting too close but never close enough.
God, I miss those days. But today is even better.
It's a day for bacon and eggs in the big skillet, fresh hot coffee and black rye bread with last summer's grape jelly. A day for very short dog walks (down the driveway and back, his legs are five inches tall, it's enough, trust me), and patio umbrellas and water-misters attached to the hose. Not-hot chocolate (thanks to Matt, who pulled out this surprise recipe which is a weird mousse-ice cream hybrid but he calls it frozen hot chocolate) to chill us from the inside out and mackerel and salad, picked from the garden being prepared for tonight's dinner.
I am blessed. Everyone is healthy, employed and safe. Everyone is happy. Everyone is navigating this strange time with grace and aplomb and I now try to take my cues from them in order to learn and to grow.
When the photos develop every one is of us, slightly out of focus, not quite ready but smiling even as we wait to get a cue like say cheese but selfies don't work like that. The pictures he'll stick on the dashboard of the truck where they will fade in the sun, melting in the heat into an unrecognizable but precious memory all the same.
God, I miss those days. But today is even better.
It's a day for bacon and eggs in the big skillet, fresh hot coffee and black rye bread with last summer's grape jelly. A day for very short dog walks (down the driveway and back, his legs are five inches tall, it's enough, trust me), and patio umbrellas and water-misters attached to the hose. Not-hot chocolate (thanks to Matt, who pulled out this surprise recipe which is a weird mousse-ice cream hybrid but he calls it frozen hot chocolate) to chill us from the inside out and mackerel and salad, picked from the garden being prepared for tonight's dinner.
I am blessed. Everyone is healthy, employed and safe. Everyone is happy. Everyone is navigating this strange time with grace and aplomb and I now try to take my cues from them in order to learn and to grow.
When the photos develop every one is of us, slightly out of focus, not quite ready but smiling even as we wait to get a cue like say cheese but selfies don't work like that. The pictures he'll stick on the dashboard of the truck where they will fade in the sun, melting in the heat into an unrecognizable but precious memory all the same.