Monday, August 23, 2010
This summer's been spectacular.
And at times, hard. Like pull-my-hair-out hard. Like who in the world handles four kids well hard? Why would anyone willingly subject themselves to the kind of torture that follows being in the car on Saturday with all four of them running errands? When Lillie spends 87% of that time crying? Out loud, very loud.
So like I said, there's been some moments of this summer that I thought we wouldn't make it, that there were too many people crying at all times, that I'd have to call that mental institution, you know, the one I have on speed dial... just in case. Some days I looked at the clock in disbelief, as if it was impossible that it was only 3 o'clock.
There were glorious times, like a feather thrust on a breeze, and even better than that. Like me and the girls wrote our own song with lyrics and hitched a ride on it, across fields and oceans, touching down here and there when necessary. I successfully kept our summer ours. We could have been in Africa some weeks for all we knew. Our dwelling was a bunker of girls. And we liked it that way.
Change peeks over my shoulder. She stares at us, makes us feel nervous and self conscious. I refuse to flinch, and this evening as the girls played together, I snuck in and giggled along with them.
Dearest Change: You have no place here. At least not until tomorrow morning when Grace starts 2nd grade.
So I draw in a breath, just enough to fill my mama lungs, being brave as I stare at that last photo again. And again. And again. This is my life and I love it.