Alarm Clocks
I was just outside with the dog. I love being out there at this time of day, as the sun is just starting to peak up over the horizon, and the sky is soft pink and purple. There's a special quality to everything; it's sweet and cool(ish) and fresh. It's also loud in a National Geographic sort of way. The birds are in full chorus, dogs and cattle are barking and mooing their good mornings to passersby, the horses (ours and others, far-flung) are beginning to nicker and neigh, and, of course, the nearby rooster is taking his job seriously, stirring all the aforementioned into action. That rooster works hard. He not only crows all morning, no; he's been known to crow in the afternoon,...
The Post About Nothing
Do you remember that old Seinfeld episode where Jerry and George were conspiring to pitch a show to NBC? They talked about different topics for the show, but finally decided it should be a show about nothing. No real point, just random happenings in the lives of the people who would hang out and, well...do nothing. I've been sitting here for about 45 minutes, hands poised at the keyboard, with no action at all emitting from them. The first real, solid thought I've had involved fictitious television characters writing a show about nothing, and I realized that "nothing" is my topic, too. I have nothing to say, and I'm alright with that. Sometimes you need to have nothing to say....
Sweet, Sweet (an open letter to my man)
10, 950. That's how many mornings my heart has awakened next to yours. Can you believe it? I remember when we were getting close to our wedding day, and I was trying so hard to project our future in my mind. I could see babies, but not their sexes. I could imagine us in a log cabin next to a river, since that's what we used to dream about over a rotary phone at precisely 11:00pm on Wednesday nights (when the rates went down), when you were at your college and I was at mine. I could gather a vague outline of events I hoped and prayed would come to pass, but beyond that, all I really knew was that we'd be walking it all together, as the lines filled in with color. We'd walk it all...
On Facing the Right Direction
Kevin and I have been working all weekend, in the yard, to get things ready for his sister's wedding. We are honored to have her getting married right here on our property, in an intimate ceremony, and it's been especially sweet preparing for it while my mind has been on marriage and anniversaries. Yesterday, we took a break and piled, dirty, into the pickup to run into town. We pulled into our favorite drive-in burger place, and as we were sitting there drinking a coke, a young family with three small, stair-stepped kids walked up to place their order. Their oldest and youngest were both boys, with a little girl sandwiched in the middle. "Two boys. What would that have been like...
Hands of Time
When Emmie and her family were here this summer, she asked to recreate a photo she saw on Pinterest. Three generations of married women. I've taken to calling it the "hands of time," which is, well, self-explanatory! It's a neat picture, but what I like about it is everything you don't see. Like, for instance, the three men to whom we gave these hands at altars, long ago, or the nine human beings that they are responsible for building up. Behind this photo are thousands of meals prepared, loads of laundry washed, and miles driven. There are snotty noses, dirty bottoms, vomit-laced hair, and thermometers either being shaken down, or turned off after use, depending on the generation using...