Summer's End 2019

Summer vacation has ended. It was over approximately two minutes after it began — while somehow managing, within that blink of time, to contain events that occurred . . . a million years ago.

(One time I sat in our van [at sunset] in a parking lot looking out over Bear Lake -- a host of sandy, wet, tired children buckled in the seats behind me, and nearly all other beach goers long gone — and watched Abe make giant slow circles over and over on the wave runner just beyond the buoy line while he waited for Mike  to back the trailer into the water. While I know, logically, that scene played out within this tiny bolt of a summer . . . I'm also somewhat certain it was a moment I witnessed a lifetime ago.)

I’m not surprised by this incongruity nor do I try to understand it. When I watch the clock, mortality seems to flow according to minutes and hours. But the second I turn away I’m not convinced earth abides strictly within its telestial bounds of time at all.

In any case. The kids are back in school. New schools for Penny and Goldie (who have just bumped up to jr. high and high school). Daisy beginning her final year of public school -- and full of a million questions about what's next. And Summer -- entering kindergarten as one of the youngest students in the batch. (And Abe -- beginning his first full day in El Salvador.)

(Summer's first official day did finally come. Along with a long letter from Abe and a video tour of his small, red, cement house.)

And, between my last posts and this new year of school, there have been birthdays for the birthday twins (Mette and Mike) and the nearly Irish twins (Summer and Mette), and there has been a whole lot of just . . . regular living I suppose as well.

I have noticed, with the school year starting, how much easier everything is [relatively speaking] than it was the last few months of school last year -- when this little sprite was brand new and waking all night and nursing unpredictably and on no reliable schedule and needing held every moment. I wondered every single morning how we would possibly do it. And it feels nice to have things a little less impossible now!

Oh but goodness. Maybe I can come up with something when I have a little more time . . . but I'm doubtful I could find any way to express how absolutely smitten and in love I am with this Starling of mine. It is just this powerful and sacred thing to love someone so wholly, and purely. I adore her. I am smitten with everything about her. I feel capable of every sacrifice for all of eternity with no reward just to get her safely raised. I. LOVE. HER!

Cat continues to be primarily the worst cat to ever have lived. Hahaha. Goldie seems to find it delightful that he's such a ferocious and frightening fellow. The other day I sustained a nice battle wound down my leg when I leapt -- in the nick of time -- between Shasta (who was pouncing for the kill) and the stunned pigeon that had flown into our window (and was momentarily standing -- confused -- near our playground). 

I've discovered that my kids seem to think being sent outside is a punishment -- unless I situate myself outside as well. Then they will play happily for hours. That, of course, makes me getting things done . . .  less of a possibility. BUT! It also meant I was there to save pigeon when pigeon needed saving! And here Mette created a special nest (that she later tried -- unsuccessfully -- to relocate to a tree). 

This face reminded Daisy and me of a baby meme we've seen floating about with a baby clenching his fist in a "YES!" sort of way. 

Goldie got her permit! She can't see over the wheel amazingly, but she's been doing quite well figuring driving out. (Or, she was doing well. Before we got busy with camping trips and school and sort of forgot she could drive now.)