Ten.Three Hundred & Forty-Seven

1. I decide that I don't want to do yoga this morning. I mean, I probably should, but I know that I don't have to. I just need to rest. 

2. Fat robin perched atop the soccer goal. 

3. All the white petals on these baby hydrangeas. I was worried that they wouldn't survive because they seemed to have shriveled so quickly after planting last summer. But both of them are so green and the one closest to the door is blooming. 

4. He meets me in the alcove and we talk. He sees what I mean about the birds—how close they come to you, how comfortable they feel to dance and chase right in front of my face. It's interesting how my lists also help him to see everything differently too. 

5. That feeling of talking face-to-face for the first time. How you get to then hold just a little bit more of a person's essence. We talk about the subjectivity of what one cup of coffee is.

6. I decide that this will indeed be the summer that they learn how to do more. I think about my role as a mother and my hope for my children. I've always said that I want them to be Independent Free Thinkers. Well, we need to work on the independent part. I have the oldest two bring down their clothes and show them how to run the washing machine. I think we all feel a little more empowered. 

7. But there really is something pleasing about freshly vacuumed carpet.

8. But why can't I find any affordable dining chairs?

9. This is summer: plastic colored cups strewn about the yard, a stray helmet, a sidewalk full of bicycles, girls running barefoot, boys kicking soccer balls, the weight of the air so thick and humid. 

10. So much goodness today. Plant seeds and then harvest. Actually, sometimes you don't really plant them. Sometimes you just scatter or toss them up into the air and then one day poppies rise up to greet you in your wholeness.