The sun came up this morning with all its’ shine and crept in to the windows of a quiet house. The fanfare of the last four days is over and I already miss it. Today is just any other Tuesday.
For some odd reason, Tuesday is one of my favorite days. I nor any of my children were born on a Tuesday, and very rarely does any holiday fall on a Tuesday. There is no rhyme or reason for my affection for this ordinary day- but this particular Tuesday is the day after a sweet time with my oldest children and that day always requires a recovery period.
It was a grand time. We shared wonderful meals and enjoyed the time spent in a leisure fashion. Lyla was the center of attention throughout the holiday. I get so much happiness just watching the way they all carry on. When Tres left last night to return to Charleston, the road downhill began for me. We are staying with Brant-and he had to go back to work today. Jenny and her family are spending time with Will’s family in a neighboring town today-so this Tuesday seems especially quiet. The refrigerator is full of left-overs, just like my heart.
When you have five children, you spend a lot of your life raising them up-to become independent of course. When it happens, it comes as a shock! Sometimes, you may feel great liberty and sometimes you may feel stranded. It is quite complicated and nothing short of mysterious.
I often think of the women before me that sent their children in to unknown territories with the hope of a few letters here and there that told of their circumstances. Their Grand children were born and not seen for years. When I do, I am apt to stop whining.
Growing up on a farm, family stayed closed by. Young couples were given a tract of land, or bought adjoining land. I had great-aunts and uncles besides the grandparents and first, second , third and fourth cousins, though we didn’t count the difference, close by. This was most inconvenient at times. Very rarely did a child get by with anything remotely naughty. I understand the concept that “it takes a village to raise a child”. Eventually, small farms got replaced by huge farms. Young would be farmers started working in factories-often shift work. Life changed and by the time I was a teenager, the farm was a memory and factories too, mostly. Still, I got used to family being next door or right down the road-and me being sentimental, well, as I said, I got used to it.
I am sitting by the splashing fountain thinking great thoughts and watching redbirds fly carelessly by. The water along the shady banks is dark til the fountain draws it in . The fountain makes the water look like silver pearls when they cascade back down to their source. Then they become little glass bubbles gliding back out to the shady banks. The water keeps changing from one beautiful way into another. A mother has to do the same thing, I remember on this Tuesday. Life may look different. Farms get sold and children grow up- but love looks the same.. . today and on any other Tuesday.