This picture isn't the best in the world. In fact, it's pretty sorry. But, if you could've seen it from my point of view- and heard the sounds that went with it... well, you would understand why I grabbed my camera and tried my best to peer out a cracked screen door while keeping the cats from bolting so I could try to capture the moment.
If you could see it clearly, you would see a girl sitting in an adirondack chair (the Lowes plastic version) embroidering a quilt block. She's in a flannel, plaid shirt with her hair pulled back in a curly ponytail. That's her oldest brother to the right. He's still in his work clothes and tinkering around on a motorcycle he recently bought. The brown and tan truck is his pride and joy and a gift from his grandpa. Their voices drift up this way (toward the house), although I can't make out a thing they are saying.
To the right of the oldest is a shed you can't see. Inside, the middle is faithfully going through his fitness regimen in which he writes down his goals on a dry erase board I bought him. Every now and then I can hear the clinking and clanking of his weights as they go up and down. The tail end of the blue truck that you see is most likely where the husband is working this evening. The fall air is beautiful, the insect repellent is at hand, and they all seem content in their world.
I was cleaning up the kitchen and thinking about Mary Todd Lincoln when I looked out the window. Odd twist there, I know, but lately I have been somewhat obsessed with the former first lady. Was she insane or was she merely a victim of the time period in which she lived? I am in the midst of one book about her now and have two more waiting in the wings, all from different perspectives. So, I was thinking of her grief regarding the death of yet another one of her children when I wiped my hands on a towel and turned off the kitchen light.
And caught a glimpse of my family,
Which produced this blurry image,
That prompted a time of gratitude.
Hope you don't mind.
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