It has just been the prettiest day. The light has been splendid, whether pouring into the house through windows or shining through magnolia leaves or just being there, lighting up the tiny part of the world I live in, showing the bluest sky and the whitest wisps of clouds to their best advantage.
It's been a wonder.
And cool. All day long. Perfection.
Knowing that my alone-time is coming to an end, I've cherished it all the more today. As I just wrote to Billy in a text, I wander around this house that I love so much thinking, "And here are my books, and here is my cozy bed, and this is my pretty bathroom and this is my rooster on the wall..."
I think it has been a time of deep gratitude for me, this past week. It is easy to see and contemplate the most simple of pleasures and sweetness when there is nothing to distract me, no reason to make me rush from one thing to another.
But soon the man will be home and my life will change back to being a bit more scheduled and a lot more full of conversation. And that is good, too.
My late-blooming roses are still kicking ass. I picked these today.
This is really quite sad, in a way, but I think I have mentioned a book of hers that I have, called The Care and Feeding of Children which is filled with stern instructions about showing too much affection to a child or passing germs by kissing. I guess...I guess...she took that to heart. I feel sorry for her children, I feel sorry for her. To think that kissing my child would cause weakness or illness in them? My god. I practically ingested my children. They are lucky I did not kiss the skin right off them.
I try not to invade the space of my grandchildren when it comes to hugs and kisses. Lily's kids are big huggers and give and receive kisses easily. August and Levon are a bit more reticent about the whole thing. Still, I can't help sometimes kamakazing in on them and delivering swift pecks to the tops of their heads. Yesterday, when I was telling them good-bye, August pursed his little lips which I took as a sign he would allow a kiss, and I gave him the briefest, dry brush of lips and then he said, "Too juicy!"
I laughed so hard. That was the least juicy kiss in the history of kisses.
Where was I? Oh yes. Roses, and my grandmother's skin.
Gladly. More for me!