Tuesday, June 8, 2010
The air is coming in through the windows, blowing softly as the fan hurries it along, pushing it forward through the house. A quiet din seems to hover just above the breeze. Cordelia is asleep, her wispy strands look like some deep sea creature moving along with an underwater current. I just finished reading a disappointing book, but I feel oddly triumphant. I had to see it through because it's part of the research for my graduate thesis, but the writing left much to be desired.
I am thinking about pink lemonade. I can almost taste it, almost. I want to press the cool glass against my hot forehead, but I don't want to actually make the lemonade. So I just sit here, a closed book to my right and a sleeping girl nestled in the crook of my left arm.
I begin to think about what I will write, what do I say about the terrible book I just read. I can't ignore it, but I want to. I think about what my professor will want me to say about it, it's not a book review, just research. I want to review it though.
I look around the room and there are happy little disaster areas in different quadrants of the house, evidence. Hours earlier Cordelia had been in a destructive frenzy and it was funny enough that I allowed her these little disasters. I figure that I will get to them eventually, but for now here I am. Sweating a little bit, thankful a lot.
I can still taste the peanuts that I had earlier. Man a glass of pink lemonade would really hit the spot. I look at my bare feet, thinking about putting on some lotion and my feet suddenly feel drier.
I am thinking about this past week. People have been talking a lot about death. My great uncle passed away suddenly. My heart hurts for my great aunt. A family friend lost her battle to cancer and my heart aches for her husband and her family. I try not to think about death much, not for any good reason, but mostly because other people think it's depressing. I think there is an opportunity in death to see just how deeply we love. I recently read a quote from Queen Elizabeth II, she said,"Grief is the price we pay for love." I think that is beautiful.
Bumblebee is whining now. She is looking out the window at a car that just pulled up, she thinks it's my mom's car. It isn't. She runs to the front door and whines, increasing her intensity now. Cordelia's eyes fly open at the sound of Bumblebee's whine. She leaves her dream, one that had been pulling her mouth into a little half smile. She looks around a bit frantically, getting her bearings I presume. We make eye contact, she smiles, she sticks out her tongue and blows. Time to play. Time for some lemonade and picking up of tiny disaster areas.
Eric will be home soon and I want to have everything in order, not because I am an awesome housewife, but because I don't want any distractions. I just want to hang out and enjoy the rest of the day as a family. Maybe we can take a walk and sit under a tree. We could laugh as Cordelia tries desperately not to let her soft baby feet touch the grass.
We'll see what happens, but for now it's one step at a time and that is how it should be.