Our first few swims of the season are in the books.
June’s weddings have commenced.
The kids have wrapped up grade levels.
The humid scorch that visits our area this time of year is saying a heavy hello.
The grass is growing higher and healthier than in past months.
All the birds are back, busy, and singing.
And our friends are murmuring of vacations, and kid camps, and outdoor activities.
We have welcomed summer.
I’m sitting out back with feet propped and crossed, watching all the winged things peck for breakfast. The oldest boy is perched at the corner of the porch making sure a baby dove gets it’s fill.
Everything is still. The weight of the air is making for a sticky beginning to the day. There’s a quiet sheen of clouds that’s smeared across the heavens, and some chorusing group of insects are loudly tipping their hats to the morning.
The boy is perusing our backyard barefoot now – peeking into bird feeders, craning neck to see high into pines, commenting on the house sparrow that has landed on the neighbors home.
He makes his Mama notice. He makes me see glory in all the growing things. It has changed my life.
My Monday list is laying to my left. It’s kind of taunting me – making me feel pressured to push words out fast and harried.
I fight the urge to be hasty. I should scuffle with the temptation to bust and rush through life much more often.
I’m know for the scurry and it needs to stop. Especially in summer – when time and spirits seem freer, and the sun seems happier, and the light of day is long and far reaching.
I feel the need and desire for breakfast breathing down my back. The youngest always wakes up scrounging for food. He is upright now, pitter pattering around the house wanting his morning meal.
I could sit and spill, and rest, and wonder here for hours longer if my Monday allowed it. I have greatly missed the therapy, and deep thought, and healing, and encouragement that comes as I scrawl. It carries me.
But for now, breakfast is up. I just took my fingers off of the keyboard, looked skyward, squinted at blue, breathed in the morning, and let out a prayer. That will carry me, too.
May the opening of summer be sweet to you, friend.
Slow.
Rest.
Enjoy.
I’ll be attempting to do the same right along side.
