Breathing Deep

Warm spring day. Porch fans are turning, everything is green and fragrant. Bees are buzzing, kitten is purring at my feet. The two cottages across the street are blessed with residents who have turned their little yards into havens for wildflowers, birds, and various types of gatherers. Sitting on my front stoop, I chide myself for not doing this every day. My daughter and I chew the fat for awhile on the phone, with chatty baby voices in the background. Four-year-old Ethan announces: "The pool opens in 8 days and then Yaya is going to teach me how to swim!" This, from a conversation he overheard a few months back. Don't ever promise a toddler something unless you plan on doing it (even if he just overheard it). 

I'm so very thankful for the sweet neighborhood we live in. My plan was for our children to grow up in the country, which they did. Then the latter plan, after the Great Downturn of 2008, was to get shed of debt and downsize. We got lucky, upsized rather than downsized, with the cash we had -- to a 3000 square foot ancient Victorian house, smack-dab in the middle of town. It's a great Papa and Yaya house, if I can keep my refrigerator stocked. After all those decades of cooking, I find it way too easy to pop over to town and get food that someone else cooked. The progeny seems content to have pizza, chicken nuggets, and occasionally Yaya's spaghetti. Someday, I might have to get back to the kitchen in a more intentional way. But tomorrow's another day. I'll think about it tomorra...  

One of our conversations on the stoop today was about Cave Spring, Georgia, where we initially planned to have our daughter's wedding. There's a wonderful park there (Rolater) where you can rent the chapel, a two-story old schoolhouse for the reception, and an inn where you can put up your whole family -- all for very reasonable rates. Covid shut the venue down, three weeks before her wedding. We still muse about it a lot...we pivoted and had a much-smaller soiree in our backyard. A blissful, happy day that will sit sweet with us forever. I like to occasionally visit Rolater Park and shop in the tiny town there. There's something kind and gentle about the times I've visited. I might need to go back soon and soak my feet in the spring water that runs out of the hill. 

We've got a loaded weekend ahead -- babysitting grandkids, a funeral for Ken's uncle who died suddenly, Sunday church and then a picnic on Memorial Day (I guess I'll break down and bake a cake). The circle of life parades all around us. Two neighbors ill with cancer; a grandbaby due at the end of next month; uncles dying; plants blooming. To everything there is a season. Turn, turn, turn...