The sun on my driveway makes me happy, and so does the one bumble bee coming and going from my Creeping Rosemary plant. Today, I got out the View-Masters for Elliot, and it made me happy when he sat in my lap to check one out. It’s rare that he’s stationary, and I enjoyed watching his little finger slide the lever down frame after frame.
This writing is completely boring. It’s not meant to thrill, because I think that’s the problem. I would love a day of thrills, of exciting news over the phone, of emails that propose new ventures and projects. That’s not where I am though. I am a woman who sits on the driveway, in her dress pants, and helps her son try reel after reel. It’s not big, bold, and newsworthy, but it is my life. I’m tired of looking around and thinking things would be so much better if –.
Our standards for “good” have gotten a little out of wack. Well, I don’t know about you. When I had my child, I wanted to go back to work. I put effort into writing, and I kept waiting to be found. It’ll be great when somebody sees me. It’ll be great when I can show people what I am really about. I’m getting lost again. Let’s head back to the driveway.
There are valuable lessons to be learned on this concrete slab. There are beetles to identify. There is the proper amount of time to suck a popsicle before it falls off the stick. Don’t put the garden hose in mama’s exhaust pipe. Do let the neighbor’s puppy give you a little lick. All in all, it’s not loud. It ain’t the sweet breath of recognition from Oprah. It’s my beautiful boy not thinking about yesterday or tomorrow.