The breeze is coming up now and then and rustling the magnolia leaves and they give up the water they collected last night and it pelts down, a time-released bit of rain, time-relief, too. The frogs sing in voices of croaky ecstasy.
Before we got the storm last night, it rained just a tiny teaser bit in the afternoon and the boys sat out on the back steps and let it fall on them and Owen collected the drops from the roof in a shot glass, his favorite thing to drink out of.
Yesterday was such a good day that I had a hard time falling asleep and I am sure there is a bit of mania involved when anxiety leaves and life is just plain good with nothing special except everything is special because the shackles of the dread and fear have been removed and it makes sense that I would float freer, a bit reluctant to let go of the sweetness of it, the relief, even to sleep which is, let's face it, normally my favorite activity on earth. So I am tired today and a bit hip-achey (Gibson loves to be held more than any child I've ever met) and they're about to come back to play and play all day, as I used to say in the Mr. Peep story. We shall take it easy, whatever that means with a three-and-a-half year old and a fourteen month old who is determined to keep up with his brother unless he is wanting to be held.
When they left last night, Owen insisted on taking home the bowl of leftover noodles from supper. I told him he could eat them here today for lunch but no, he wanted them at home for his breakfast. He was so tired but still in a good mood and how could I refuse that? "Take the noodles, boy," I said, and he did and why not? I'd give him anything he wanted, almost. I am a lenient grandmother and he knows it, just as Gibson knows that if he wants to be held, I will hold him.
Oh, I am sleepy and I need to eat something for breakfast myself but not noodles. They will be here soon and the day will truly begin and here we go, I am stepping on the merry-go-round, we twirl around and around and Owen knows how to operate the CD player now so we have music as our horses go up and down, mostly The Rolling Stones, Gibson dances, bounces and "You want to do a puzzle, MerMer?" and "I am hungry, MerMer," and perhaps I will make popcorn in the Whirly Pop again and we will sit on the porch and share it with the chickens and maybe we will read books and play feed-the-animals and pick the peas and feed the goats for real and the day will pass like that, up and down and around and around and perhaps, maybe, there's a good chance, that this is the best time of my life so far.