Monday, October 11, 2010
A Series of Moments
Our trip to the local "Punk-man Patch" was impromptu and wonderful. The weather was beautiful and the children were excited. It was perfect.
My children scrambled out of the van, running to see Grammy and Bapa. My husband and I took our time walking up the drive, appreciating my parents new fence.
My mom greeted us in the garage with a hug. I breathed her in. She always smells like clean sheets and sunscreen. Then my dad came next to say hello. He is a big guy, whose hugs make me feel like I am eight years old. He smells of old spice.
I see my parents all the time, but I don't always see them this way. I don't slow down and take it all in. I am too often in a rush. In a hurry to communicate the details of the upcoming scheduled events; dates, times, places and favors. Can you watch the kids? Can drop this at Goodwill? Can you pick up some milk? Can you listen to me rant but not get offended when I cut you off at the end????
We set about making our scarecrows. Cobbled creations made of outgrown outfits and fallen leaves. My husband starts to rake the leaves and the kids jump with wild abandon into the piles. It looks like something from a movie, but it is my life. My middle child grabs a pair of swimming goggles and dives back in. It is crazy and wonderful.
We create three perfect little scarecrows, one for each. My husband finishes raking all the leaves and drags them to the curb.
My mom calls out that dinner is finished and we scurry to the porch, starving after all the leaf raking and scarecrow making.
She serves us pork and sauerkraut, mashed potatoes and corn on the cob. There is crusty Italian bread, fresh from the market and pumpkin pie for desert. We eat heartily, murmuring delightedly our approval with full mouths.
Today was a perfect day.
Just a series of moments, one after another, that made me remember why I believe in God.