We were sitting in the bay window together, his tan 16 year old legs resting easily across mine, watching the rain pour down. It was the beautiful kind of rain that falls hard and long creating long, spidery paths down the window pane. We see my husband's dark figure moving hurriedly down the back walk to move the makeshift bridge propped over the creek. The creek that spends it's days gurgling peacefully over stones and rocks is starting to swell. It will soon break free from the confines of it's muddy walls and lick at our fire pit and retaining walls.
"I don't want to go to my meeting," I mutter as I settle my chin deep into the cushion in front of me.
"That's the first time I've ever heard you say something like that," he says tilting his face towards me, a smile spreading across his lips. His reaction surprises me. There are MANY things in daily life I'd rather not do. Part of me is pleased that I've done them with a such a pleasant attitude that my offspring hasn't discovered the natural man in me before this moment. A deeper part of me is glad he's realizing I'm human.
I remember the first time I realized my mother was human. It was a blazing hot summer day in Idaho, the kind that leaves active children continually parched. I had run inside for a cold drink when I heard sounds coming from her bedroom. I walked down the hall and softly pushed open the door to find her rocking back and forth, back and forth in her wooden rocking chair, tears streaming steadily down her face. I asked her what was wrong, thinking surely it must be something one of the children did, but it wasn't. She had a broken heart over a disagreement with friends. My mom had friends, and a broken heart. She didn't say anything more about it that day and by the next morning her tears were replaced by her usual, easy smile but something was different. Suddenly I could relate to her in a way I never had.
Wether 4 or 40 we're all facing challenges, learning, being stretched. It's our common denominator.
I left my cozy spot, gathered my things
and headed out into the rain
just in time for my 7:00 meeting.
just in time for my 7:00 meeting.
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1 comment:
This beautiful, Jodi. About you and your mom.
A. Doris
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