Waiting

Tonight the house is filled with
Just boys (and me)
Raiding the refrigerator.
Bowls piled with bananas, grapes, yogurt
The spoon a shovel.

I miss the smell of nail polish,
The ordering,
The tidying.
The questions
And the plans.

My girl is growing up,
Independent.
Persistent.
Herself.

She'll be back
Yearning for more
Adventures
And
Discovery.
It waits.

shifting

                                           Photo by travelinma

 The doctor announces, "He was near death when he came in."  A sobering fact.  I sat in the emergency room trying to grasp this message. Thinking shifts.  I almost lost my son.  Anaphylactic shock.  Unknown cause. "We may never know," a health practitioner added.  How do we all live with this possibility?  Without realizing, fear of death may restrict the joy of living.  Until we have more answers, living is cautious.  Carefully measured text messages: How you doing?  I love you.  Do you have your EPI pen on you?   I have awakened from a slumber.  Each moment is precious.

a gathering

The smoke followed me wherever I sat.  I'd change seats and the wind would shift.  My decision to stand was a practical one, so that I could easily avoid the smoke with a shuffle of a few steps to the left or to the right.  The fire kindled easy conversation as we talked about things like knitting, Gatorade flavors, sun screen and bug repellent.

Maybe the fire did not ignite some ancient longing to gather around a blaze and talk, but something did.  Maybe it was the first weekend that we have had late spring worthy weather, maybe it was the fact that this place holds such family history since my husband has been coming to this spot since he  was three or maybe it was that most of my children and significant others were gathered here.  Nothing makes us happier; our already big family is growing. And you know, this is just the beginning.