It’s Sunday morning. The day has started out cool and breezy, with a faint feeling of fall whispering its approach. My children spent the night at their grandparents so we enjoyed a slower start to the day. For me that meant brewing coffee and curling back into bed to savour the hot, bitter taste while flipping the pages of my latest book.
I’m reading Husband and Wife by Leah Stewart. It’s been on my to-read list for months and months. A few weeks ago, I looked at the reviews on Goodreads and decided it was just the kind of book I needed. I’ve been pleasantly surprised. Though I expected it be good, I’m not sure I expected it to be quite so good, quite so true to the real lives of husband and wives. As I’ve read I’ve found myself thinking about my marriage, the choices I’ve made both personally and professionally and the family I call my own. The book is a validation that nothing is ever perfect, and that the things that happen in our heads are not necessarily the things that actually are. It reminds me that the hard times are, in their own way, as important as the good. I need this nudge every so often.
Before long I hear car door slamming, and the chipper sounds of little people voices. They swept in with piles of stuff, and stories, and happy, happy smiles after an evening of being spoiled and loved. I hugged them tight because even though I long for the breaks, when they are gone I just miss them. I miss the softness of their skin, the smell of downy blond hair and the laughter that erupts all around the house because of the things they say. When they are gone I miss them intensely.
Now, we’ve settled into our Sunday routine. The boys and their father curled up in our family room watching The Lorax. I’m on my back porch, letting the rustle of trees sooze me as they always do. I hear sounds of our neighbours enjoying their own Sunday together as families. There are lawn mowers gently humming in the background, and the family next door is chatting, and playing in their backyard.
And the feeling of family just washes over me.
It’s now. Moments like these when I feel the intensity of family. And it is just so comfortable, and fulfilling. There is nothing special about this moment. It’s just a normal day, with everyone doing the things they love to do on lazy Sunday mornings. The sun is shining, and I’ve had a great night’s rest, which helps. But I’m just happy. All is right with the world.