It's my favorite time of the week. It is an early evening on a warm summer day. The house is blaring with the noise of the air conditioner, Beloved is returning not just Girl, but Boy as well, to their respective summer abodes and the dog is sleeping peacefully at my feet.
The work week has yet to draw my brows into a furrow and I'm reflecting on twenty-four hours of time spent with my kiddos. I'm so blessed to have oodles of love in my life. Boy is settling into an adult life. He's working, he's biking and most recently he's running. School waves from the distant shore of September as he sings for his supper at the farmers market and in the local pubs. He serves. He ministers. He's cleaning his house. ....
Cleaning his house? That toxic testosterone filled parsonage house he dwells in with Guy One and Guy Two? It can only mean one thing...a girl.
Then there is my little Girl. My little blondie, tanned, curvy girl who finds herself in command of many littlies. Camp is filled dirt and song and horses. Girl has bandaged oozie knees, and wiped homesick tears, and longed for a week all her own. I know this will be her final summer as a counselor. She's ready for more than the hustle and tussle of camp.
Calculus growls and rumbles from the classroom on campus, but for now she's plotting starting her own business and dreaming of mornings that don't start at six.
This weekend has been filled with laughter and baking and happiness.
And I hope it will stay with me throughout the crazy, stress of this coming week.