s c a t t e r e d

I'm so glad I have been waking up feeling a little more refreshed lately. I don't have to drag my feet, I am happy to plant them on the floor and start my day. Our morning was peaceful, well, as peaceful as it can be with three little people all in want. The fourth slept soundly in her huge bed that we borrow at night. I pull her blanket to cover her toes, to trick her. Mama's warmth is not so easily replaced but this will be sufficient for the time being, I think.

I have three little birdies who love to sing. They sing in their nest, and they sing out in the world where open ears can hear them. While we shop, while we drive, while we walk. Observers often pause to hear and take in the sight and sound of my precious choir. It will soon be a quartet, undoubtedly.

On our drive home from dropping the oldest at school, we roll the windows down. There are no more curls to protect from the wind. We can be free again. Mama, the sun is in my face! I hear her shriek from the backseat. It's okay, Emme. The sun is beautiful. Let it shine on your face. See, it is bright and warm. We can't live our whole lives in the shade. You are like a flower, you need sun. I tell her this with the thought of my obsessive sunscreen rituals that must be plaguing her memory. But your flowers are dead, Mama. She speaks with intensive concern somehow coupled with sarcasm that not many people with less than 4 years of life under their belts possess.

My flowers are dead. Not all of them, however. I still have one hanging basket that lights up our front porch. During the hot days, it signals to the outside world that life still exists in this home. On the other side of the porch, hangs the dead basket that I haven't been able to successfully revive. That is another story in itself.

Today I am feeling more than ever that we should live somewhere else. Somewhere out, away from things. I hate to think of being away from my family, but I feel like we don't belong here. The manufactured rows of dwellings, so symmetrical. Of course there are a whole breed of us, dreaming of living where the colors we love exist. For some it is the yellow sands of the far-reaching desert. For others it may be the painted mountains as their backdrop or the cascading green hills of the open landscape. I want green. Trees, flowers, hills, creeks. Everything that scares me about the outside, like killer bugs who know no personal boundaries and even their less lethal counterparts would be worth the mental anguish. Because I'd be there. I don't feel unhappy here, how could I? My babies are my home. It is in their love and need for me that I live and breathe and grow. One day they will give me back my time and my direction and I feel that it will take me somewhere I dream of, out in the open. For now, I really am thankful for the huge backyard I have. It has lots of trees and interesting plants. I will put some of that longing energy into what I do have, and nurture it.

thankful that they have a place to explore