18 December 2012

Monday


I suppose it's technically Tuesday, but I've yet to go to bed-
so I'm counting this as my Monday blog.

I don't have much to share.
In addition to studio time, today was a day of chores.

I made pot roast for the week.

 I caught up on laundry.
When the last load of Monkey clothes came out
completely green, I realized I'd forgotten
the obligatory pocket-check.

It seems my boy is fond of Inchworm colored crayons.
And bits of chain.
And rocks...
{though the latter two
don't dye denim in the dryer.}

I had to laugh... what could potentially be a ruined pile
of clothes and quite a bit of money in replacement garb
left me teary in an altogether different way.
I laughed until I cried.
Then I just cried... in gratitude.
A friend and I had spoken the other day about
the privilege that is parenthood.
When I texted a picture of the green laundry
to that friend today,
the response I got was
"privilege"
and a smiley face.

YES.

Here's the thing:
I get the joy of washing Monkey clothes.
I get the joy of green stains and full pockets-
evidence of fascination and enthusiasm for this world.
It is an honor to wash crayons, people,
and rocks, and chain, and mulch, and kleenex.
I imagine there are many mothers tonight
who would love to be pulling waxy, neon, small-scale clothing
from the dryer.

He is with his father tonight.
I'm missing him terribly,
but he'll be back tomorrow.
I cannot fathom what it would be like to know
that he isn't coming home at all.

I closed my eyes and said another small prayer-
this time with a heart full of gratitude
and a fist full of Crayola wrappers.


Tonight, I was restless.
I hung curtains in the dining room
(once a covered porch.)
The large scale windows make for the best view out,
but at night, the view looking in is
a bit more revealing than it needs to be.

It took ten panels and three rods to span this wall.
I opted for lace... something to let the light in while
still being (when scrunched together tightly) opaque
enough to offer some measure of privacy.
 I lit candles and the kerosene lamps in the hearth as well.
With the interior lights off and the Christmas lights
twinkling on the back patio,
it was lovely in there tonight.
I stood still in the quiet, looking that table over,
and remembered the Easter brunch there earlier this year-
the only meal in the room before things fell apart.
One day, I want to have family meals
at that table again. In that space.
Regularly.


Until then, friends, won't you come over?
Methinks it's a room made for laughter.
Let's.



I hope your ordinary Monday was laced with enough good
to be considered anything *but* ordinary.

I hope December is bringing you some
peace and perspective,
as it is to me.

I hope you're hopeful.

See you tomorrow.
J


5 comments:

  1. I am so there!!!!

    sending much love and light....
    I am reading between the lines and feeling your heart
    sending hugs and laughter from a far
    knowing one day your wish for family dinners will come true...

    this ordinary Monday has been anything but ordinary
    as I drive late into the night to pick up my oldest from the airport...
    he is coming home from across the other side of the world
    homesick
    needing to be back in his life here

    I wonder how this journey has
    changed him
    grew him
    I know how it has changed me...

    love and light

    ps could you send me your mailing addy?
    catscorner@telus.net

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  2. Beauty and appreciation. Thank you for this post! I bet you'll have a great time in your lovely curtained space. Keep healing!

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  3. My heart has been heavy as lead and my eyes well up with tears over and over. I may not have kids of my own, but so many of the little ones in my life (that I love so dearly) are all around the 6-7-8 age group. I stare at my niece and hug her so tight. I just can't seem to get close enough. They, indeed, are such a blessing.

    Yes. That dining room is made for laughter and love. For magic. For memories. I would love to sit at your table and share some time. Share some joy.

    Much love, Jess. And massive hugs.
    ~Jo~

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  4. This made my heart hurt for those that have lost and yet feel good that there is love and goodness. Your home is lovely and my wish for you is to fill it with laughter and love again soon!

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