A Series of Moments

There are some days that you know will stay with you for the rest of your life.  Today was one of those days.

In my experience, I have found that these kinds of days creep up on you, grab you from behind. 

When you are planned and scheduled, routine and regular, you can miss these days.  But today I didn't miss a thing. 

Our trip to the local "Punk-man Patch" was impromptu and wonderful.  The weather was beautiful and the children were excited.  It was perfect. 

Not the scheduled perfection that is often found in the organized trips and daily routine of life.  This was something different.  Something special, like bare feet in October.  Something unplanned, unknown, unexpected.  

The kids played and laughed and squealed.  I took deep breaths, taking in the smells of fall.  I locked eyes with my husband across the hay bale slide and smiled.   We did good.

We left the Pumpkin Patch and headed to my parents house where, it was decided on our way over, we would make a scarecrow. 

I will always remember pulling up to the house.  It was part of the perfection.  Familiar and welcoming.  The brilliant sunflower wreath on the door and the fresh flowers in the living room window.  Freshly mowed lawn and the open garage door, beckoning us inside. 

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. 

I commit it all to memory, it is seared into my brain.  This new image takes it's place next to the memory of sitting on the suspension bridge with my Dad, listening to the sounds of nature, and sitting in the living room talking to my Mom into the wee hours of the night. 

Today was a perfect day. 

Just a series of moments, one after another, that made me remember why I believe in God.