Stole an hour away today to nap, to scroll back to the beginning of my year in photos, while the lamb is sizzling in the oven on high heat downstairs. Nico singing These Days and my stomach growling for something meaty. I am looking forward, I think. I like my photos, lots of the kids, lots of coffee selfies, a small handful of color, light, plant, food, landscapes that don’t belong to me. Just the open sky in so many photos, longing, expansive, hopeful. I hear the chefs bickering downstairs. I tap away at my husband’s childhood desk, it fits me well. I remember —
rollercoasters made of wood
great gowns, beautiful gowns
crackling fires
camp fires
the way the banks of the pond upstate seem absolutely unreal, their greens, the waves, their feathery grass and moss carpet
being away
being home
lighting the candles
folding the laundry
tiptoeing ontop of tidepools — starfish!
coffee coffee coffee with friends
One of the children just came upstairs to read over my shoulder. “Watch out Maya Angelou,” she says. Oh Maya, there’s no competition here, but I thank the kid for her comparison and give her a kiss.
more whipped cream directly into mouths
more caterpillars falling from the sky
more radical abandon
more rollercoasters
more naps
more words on the page
more giving things away, wrapped up like the gifts they are
more kisses, less worry
“We’ve all come to look for Americaaaaaa…”
mwah.