In which crab grass and a summer breeze save my life… a syncroblog post

by Lesley on July 26, 2012 · 11 comments

in lessons learned,make-you-think,motherhood

I walk in the middle of the road, near the grass median, because I want to see the homes better.

I want to notice the way the sun filters through the drying summer leaves and how some homes are in shadows and some bask in the early morning light.

She kicks happily, and I sip my smoothie with both hunger and fulfillment.

Everyone is on their way to work, but I’m already at work. It started at 6:30am and it will go until about 7:30pm. And then I will rest.

There are blues and greens and deep purples on these houses. Gargoyles and picket fences and big wrap around front porches and turrets and detailed windows that speak of decades and centuries past.

It is an ordinary day, but it’s also not. Today I am noticing. Today I move slower.

Later, much later, when the sun is at a different height and she has already taken both naps, I lay in our backyard crab grass. It’s itchy on my skin and needs to be mowed but I don’t care in this moment because I can see the breeze making the blades move in the same rhythm as her whispy blonde hair. She is bear crawling towards me, and when she arrives she will lay her head on my stomach for less than 5 seconds but it will feel like an eternity because she doesn’t pause so much anymore. When I ask for a kiss, she opens her mouth wide, wide, wide and moves in awkwardly as if she’s not so sure what she’s doing.

The leaves dance like they did on that February day after we drank milkshakes. And I do believe that everytime I lay on my back in this yard, and look at that tree, and feel the breeze,  I will think of that day when we saw hope again.

These days though, hope seems easier to find. It’s in the 8:00pm skyline that glows longer than it does any other time of year and the chimes of the ice cream man who reminds me of last summer when we brought her home, and the Midtown homes that speak of a long and storied past.

We are creating our own history, and it’s saving my life.

This post is inspired by, and part of, Sarah Bessey’s In which we are saved syncroblog. Make sure to hop on over to her site to read her post, and all the others that are popping up around the world today. And maybe, just maybe, you’ll give yourself a moment today to think about what’s saving your life.

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10 comments
Kelly
Kelly

So beautiful, Lesley.

Andrea
Andrea

pure, unadulterated loveliness.

Julia
Julia

Oh, my 10-month-old gives those slobbery open-mouth kisses too! Such a gift...

Randi Riggs
Randi Riggs

Yes, I grew up in Temecula. My parents still live there and my in-laws are in Murrieta! What a small world. We visit as much as we can; we LOVE it there. We are enjoying Sacramento, though (especially its proximity to Tahoe and San Francisco...so much to do!) How fun to have met a new "neighbor"! P.S. Looks like your daughter and I share a middle name :)

Jenn LeBow
Jenn LeBow

Lesley, the open-mouth awkward baby kisses! Yes, that is so precious. Love this post. Thank you for sharing your thoughts!

Randi Riggs
Randi Riggs

What wonderful imagery! Beautifully written piece :)

Ashlee
Ashlee

Beautiful, inspiring, and hope-inducing. I am working on mine right now. I love these synchroblogs.

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