Sunday, July 25, 2010

Summer Jam

The crickets softly chirp; warm air wafts in through the windows that stand open. The light is fading. It is quiet in my home, but it is a different kind of quiet. It is the quiet of peace, of warm chests rising and falling, of sweet breath and long lashes resting on plump cheeks. It is a silence that can, and will, be broken. This is peace.

I sometimes feel as if I have an obligation to write here of things that are sad, to write about the parts that make my heart ache. But the truth is, right now, this summer, I am sublimely happy. My heart soars. Greg is home, we are waking each day with an agenda lightly filled with things that we want to do. We eat three meals a day together, our children laugh, they relish in each others' company. This joy, this lightness, it is infectious. I want to know how I can bottle it, how I can make it last.

I wonder this, and I said it aloud to Greg the other night. What makes this different, this summer? Why is it that each night, after our children are tucked in and asleep, we can each look around and decide what it is that we want to do, and do it? I sit at my machine and sew, I take material and I envision something new to wear for myself or a child and I begin to tinker. I don't think about whether the living room has toys on the floor, or what we'll have for supper tomorrow night. Because it's today, and I want to sew. Greg is the same. I want to can this along with my blueberry jam and my dilly beans, and I don't see why I can't. But somehow, in fall, it always changes.

I look at myself, right at this moment in time, and the sadness feels distant, and I wonder if I should be feeling sad about this, or guilty that I am allowing myself to stand at a distance from it. Just two nights ago Liam appeared at the top of the stairs, with a box of kleenex in his hand, his face wet with tears. He was sad about Charlotte, he missed her. My heart did ache, then, for her, for me, for him.

Happiness, though, is a comfortable blanket, and I shall lie under it for a while, I think.


Ya Chun said...

It's nice to be content.

And it's nice to read about the contentedness of others. Perhaps that is how it is stored, through sharing.

Sara said...

Carol, this makes me smile.
Enjoy the rest of your summer.

Hope's Mama said...

Lovely to read.

kris said...

I am happy you are happy...and I am confident that Charlotte is happy about it too. And oh, your sweet, sweet boy, there is something so sacred about his love for his big sister. Thank you for sharing it with us.

Aimee Cotton Bogush said...

I'm visiting for the first time...having searched "happy and sad at the same time" in google. My boy would be 9 today. I am so sorry for your loss. I wanted you to know, 9 years out from my loss, I am finding great comfort in your posts and how you are articulating the bittersweet happy/sad that will forever be our journey as bereaved parents. My heart is full of gratitude for having found you and for what you are doing here. Thank you.