Today I had the opportunity to silently think on different slices while working in the yard.
Those who wrote about the laundry being the bane of your existence–I so agree and share your pain, I have one load in the dryer, one in the washer, and one left to fold. It won’t be done tonight.
Those who wrote about going to the zoo, the movies, or any other outing today–I wish I had gone to, it was the perfect day for it.
Those who wrote about caring for kids–Everyday I understand your worry when they are sick, your concern for their tears, or your joy at seeing them so happy.
Those who wrote a poem–I wish I could be as creative.
You see, I sit here at 10:30 at night finally typing my slice, not because I have nothing to say, but because I have too much to say. I still have the piece in my head about grandma’s gravy. I still have the piece in my head about age being a number. I still have the piece in my head about shoes. I have many ideas rolling around in my head and none of them compare to what occurred today.
Today, I was outside all day. I enjoyed the sun shining on my face. I may even have a sunburn. I pulled weeds and cut down trees, raked debris, and worked on clearing paths at the new house. The yard looks barren and empty–a blank slate just waiting for lilac bushes, or boxwoods, or tulips, or lavender. I don’t have a green thumb but I do alright if the planting is simple. So I pulled weeds and planned where to build a rock wall, and what I want the front of the house to look like. I made fun of my husband, laughed with my kids, talked with my parents and mother-in-law and saw my sister and her family. All while being outside enjoying the sunshine, pulling weeds. And that is why I sit here at 10:30 at night, finally typing my slice. So much to say about other things, yet wanting to remember this day in all its simplicity.