Life is hurtling its little self along – in that way it does that is so familiar to most of us: days that are occasionally long, but weeks and months that pass quickly like pages being turned in a novel. (A rather disjointed novel, mind – with plot lines that don’t always seem to lead anywhere or resolve themselves in any clear manner; and so many characters with intertwining lives that only those living the novel themselves can begin to make heads or tails of it all.)
Sometimes it’s easiest to just open a page here and there – share a paragraph or give a glimpse without trying to do so in context of the entire story.
Here are several recent fragments of our passing novel – a few pages maybe, a couple of paragraphs, and a few bits that aren’t much more than a sentence . . .
I have to be careful not to take advantage of our Goldie lately. She is so utterly willing to help – so strangely determined to not only help, but do more than what is asked, that it is very tempting to call on her assistance far more often than I do the other kids.
Summertime must be close because, already, the lawn is in constant need of mowing; kids are staying up far too late each night (riding scooters and bikes or running around with neighbor kids when they should be getting bathed and into pajamas). They are eating popsicles; wearing bare feet or, whatever else suits them – rain boots, mismatched clothes, messy hair, . . . helmets. (Actually, getting Anders to wear anything other than his full-bodied fleecy “snowman jammies” or his flannel spider-man jammies is quite an ordeal. A helmet, some rain boots, and a shirt? Seems like a success to me!)
Mike comes home with enough daylight left to have him out pulling weeds and helping set our yard in order. He bought several lilac bushes for me for Mother’s Day. There are few happier smells in the world, so I am very excited about him getting those in! (Also, when I happen to get a shot of him, I tend to look at it over and over. He’s handsome. I like looking at him and thinking about how happy it is that our stories are bound up in this novel closest of all.)
And now, to end, we’ll flip through a few of those “sentences” in our book. . . . (Although . . . any one of these could be made into chapters or tied to ongoing themes. Some might be sentences all of their own and some might be sentences that are beginning whole new story lines.)
-- The local library kids’ section (when I think of times long ago, I often think sadly about kids not being able stock up on library books whenever it suited their fancies).
-- A rainy day on grandma’s deck.
-- A hug for an aunt who had just gifted a certain child a slide projector!
-- A quilt for Summer -- each tiny bit made by friend Jill (roommate from my semester in Jerusalem long ago).