Do you see that iris with the sun shooting through it? Those irises have been growing there for the ten years I've been living here and that is the first blossom I'd ever seen from them. Why it decided to bloom this year is beyond me. More rain? The fact that the chickens sip water a few feet away and thus, have probably fertilized the area?
I have no idea but there it is.
I have more fully returned to myself today than in weeks. Even when I got home from our little trip away and was so full of relief and was happy, the anxiety beast still clung to my back. This morning it was there and then suddenly, there was a thought that felt like a little slip of light through a white curtain. I almost held my breath. And then, within half an hour, I was back. No difference in my life but suddenly, everything was completely different.
Has the medication increase kicked in?
Whatever. I am grateful beyond words.
The boys came over and they were as good and fun as they've ever been. There was no fussing. There was just one fun thing after another.
Nicey was played with. Even Gibson can pick her up. She is the sweetest chicken I have ever had. She walks on my feet if I stand still.
There was coloring and painting. They actually sat and painted for perhaps fifteen minutes which may be a world record.
There was a tea party and there was swinging. There were noodles and apples and carrots and peanut butter. There were several hot games of Old Maid and a few games played with a Tribond game board and the colored dice. We don't bother with the questions. Every time I'd roll a white, which meant I didn't get to move, Owen told me to just say, "Oh poop." And when he rolled a white, he would put his arm around my shoulder and say, "Oh poop. See, Mer? That's all you have to do."
He wanted me to win the last game and I did and he hugged me hard and then Gibson, who had been happily "writing" in a little notebook as we played, said, "Kiss!" and puckered up his lips and I kissed him.
I could have died from the sweetness.
They wanted to put make-up on me. I let them.
Owen did the blues and greens, Gibson the purples. They also did my hair and nails. And Gibson carefully patted powder all over my face. It was, to be frank, the most pampering I've received in a very long time.
And of course there was bamboo kicking. Or as Owen does it, bamboo pushing and pulling over. I got a video.
That's Owen in his Hulk mode. He sort of scares me.
And now I have the bathroom rug in the washer which had blue eye shadow powder dumped on it and I've put away the paints and washed the dishes and swept the floors. And I am tired but I am myself.
Owen asked me today, "Mer, when I was little, what did you talk to me about?"
"Don't you remember?" I asked him.
"I'm forgetting," he said. "Back when I was really little, like close to the ground."
I thought about it.
"I've always talked about everything to you, Owen. I think I talked to you about how much I loved you and about flowers and the sunshine and the birds and things like that."
He wasn't satisfied with my answer and I'm not sure what he expected to hear but truly, I think that is what I talked to him about. And how beautiful he was and how precious.
The same things I talked to Gibson about, and have since he was close to the ground.
I hope they don't forget everything I talk to them about. Or the chickens or the goats or the birds or the way the sunshine looks in the backyard or the way this house rambles or climbing trees or dancing in the hallway or picking flowers or my kisses and our games. Although I know they won't remember everything, I am willing to bet they'll remember a lot.
And even if they don't, if the internet is still here, maybe they can come back and read about it. See the pictures.
I just want them to know how loved they are. And have been since they were very, very close to the ground.