Somewhat unbelievable
It's a quiet moment, all guest in the house asleep. The above shot was taken at 5.15 a.m. today, although it's not cold outside, fifty-one degrees Fahrenheit. Which is MARVELOUS for a clear night in nearly mid-November.
Amid party prep, we wondered what kind of weather would greet the festivities, and so far it's been SPECTACULAR, as have been the reunions and revelries. No rain in sight and so many embraces, peals of laughter, appreciative gestures and surprise gifts, two of which were for me, hehehe. My youngest sister brought a painting our mom had done of Dad, as well as a blanket I made for him. Those treasures joined a couple of pieces of furniture delivered, tables made from a redwood slab the previous owner of our home left for us four years ago. We've been living here for a little over forty-eight months, and now my husband is sixty, and in hosting a collection of our nearest and dearest, perhaps this house is now fully integrated into the familial....
I can't think of the correct word to describe what I mean; collection of family homes sounds dorky, but maybe that's all right. If nothing else, this property is now known to all we consider relations, and Humboldt County can be added to their repertoires as a place to visit and call home. Celebrating my husband's milestone matters, but equally vital is sharing our little corner of the world with those we love.
Currently I'm seated on the sofa where often I stitch. The crocheted throw I made Dad is over my lap, and in writing this, I've pulled myself momentarily from the list of To Do's and meal planning to reflect mid-festival, or maybe to ground myself so when I rejoin the merriment once people stir from slumber, I am more cognizant? I don't know, but I felt like writing a little something this morning, staying in touch with this part of who I am. I'm a wife, mum, abuela, sister, friend.... I'm the eldest daughter in a family altered due to parents' passings and time's inevitable march constantly reshaping the realm and arc of what we consider our lives. Our lives are like the specks of white against the blue-black sky, twinkling for moments, then forgotten as the sun rises. Not that a clear sky this early in the day indicates sunny weather for later, only that it probably won't rain today, allowing the grandkids plentiful trampoline opportunities in addition to my husband leading guests on trails. A week ago rain threatened the entire weekend, but weather patterns change as do who we claim as relatives. A family reunion allows for more than the chance to visit. New parameters are established, guiding all of us into how the rest of our lives will be fashioned.
Some of these realms are only for this weekend, in that my grandkids might not recall the names of my youngest sister's teenage daughters, lol. A big difference between those two groups, but who knows, perhaps in decades to come, they will become more acquainted as age differences are erased by time's wily passage. That immutable element of human existence cannot be overemphasized, in that when I was my grandkids' ages I had no idea my family would be comprised of those with whom I ate, laughed, and reminisced yesterday. If I tried to tell the grandchildren that, they might smile, or stare at me questioningly. But there's a HUGE difference between being nine years old and two times twenty-nine. The arc of one's life is an unpredictable rainbow.
I doubt we'll see any of those today, no rain on the horizon until middle of the night tomorrow. It's actually supposed to be warmer today than yesterday, maybe we'll get to the beach after lunch. I'm happy for whatever activities occur, looking forward to another day of amazing conversations, heaps of laughter, card and board games with the littles and anyone interested in joining us. Today's crowd will be smaller, allowing a different flavor of gathering. I might get out my largest teapot this evening, brewing up cuppas of decaf. I think basketball will be on the docket, although my husband's beloved Green Bay Packers have their bye-week, so he won't have to fret about them. And at now 6.02 a.m., I hear someone overhead, about time to put this post onto the World Wide Web, just a slender silken thread spun from my gray matter, slipping into a greater realm, marking one more day of my journey on this planet we all call home.
