Juxtapose

It's coming to that time of year wherein I reflect back on the early into late sunshine of summer days and pronounce it either good or satisfactory. I've never had a truly Bad summer, but some are better than others, for sure. Some people wait until Thanksgiving to lay it all out in their brains, but me - once the leaves start to orange and redden I start to be so appreciative of everything. I love warming up by the oven, baking or roasting something that is healthy but seems better than all the summer's ice cream stops. I love sweaters and hoodies and dark jeans and boots. I love the first cup of purchased hot coffee, steaming and handed to me over the counter. It all feels so cozy and inviting. I loathe the winter so this just seems like one of those seasons where you have to take life by the horns and just soak it all in before the edge turns a little too cold for comfort. So I'm thankful. Writing my yearly thankfulness post a bit early is year, since my heart is bursting today. Today, this year, right now, I am thankful for these things:

A husband working from home for the day
New yellow paint on my bedroom walls
Air conditioned nights in the summer, cold sunny mornings each autumn
Muffins baking and warming the house
Two kids who could eat seven muffins a piece
A family next door
A family in Virginia
Friends a drive away and a friend an ocean and several puddle jumpers away
Kids napping on the couch, drooling into my new pillows
Two jobs that pay the bills, money to spare
A house so full of things that I can give them away and never miss any of it
Road trips holding Mark's hand
Quiet, short, evening drives while the kids sleep in the back seat
Boxes of clothes, mailed up each season, for the kids from my in-laws
Apple picking
County fairs
Handfuls of acorns, rocks, sticks, and trash collected as Treasure by my kids
A clean house
Stepping out of the shower and into clothes hot from the dryer
Mailed letters and packages
A daughter in clothes baggy on her scrawny frame
A son with a potbelly and serious eyebrows
A late evening after work with pizza shop subs, a movie, and a glass of wine
Rocking chairs and afghans
Reading plans, clean lined notebooks, new books
A midday text from Mark
Mark. Amelia. Elias.

Another year around the sun. Another day. Another minute. Existing. I don't always know how to grab hold of it all and treasure it as it occurs. I wish I did. I write it down and try to memorize each feeling that passes so I don't forget what I have lived, the sweetness of my kids slowly and innately learning language, recognizing instances of intense compassion and kindness in them amidst the selfishness of childhood, the rush of love that floods through my chest and down to my fingertips when I see my husband's face through the screen door each evening, the mornings we wake sandwiched between two sweating, snoring babies and all their stuffed animals when we had gone to bed alone... And those are only the good moments I try to retain. There are also heartbreaking, angry, selfish moments I hold on to so as not to repeat them again, equal in significance. And as I sit here in the sunny cool of my yard, watching my little ones pad around in the grass barefoot, collecting piles and piles of acorns, munching messy pears down to the stem as they investigate in their own little worlds, all of it looks so utterly benign in significance but to me, so heavy laden with love and beauty I can barely stand it. Pause! Please, oh please, just slow this earth's rotation for one extra second. The most precious second I have ever lived. Each of them is. May I never waste one moment of it.