On Sunday the clouds had rolled in by noon, and rain was imminent. After church we drove around delivering money for Scout-a Rama tickets (gotta support the boys!), delivering cases of powdered milk from the latest cannery project, and then, since we were in the neighborhood, we stopped in at L's parents for a quick visit. By this time I'm dying to shed the church clothes: skirt, tights, boots, and Spanx. Sometimes pudge just has to be free, and have some down time in yoga pants and sweatshirt. And at last, that's what I did. Ahhhh... freedom!
This is rain in Puerto Rico, but this is how it was raining in So Cal on Sunday night!
And down came the rain. First in a steady shower, and by 6:00 it was a raging downpour. I love to hear heavy rain on the roof. I love to hear it pounding in the street, while the wind blows the trees and leaves. It was good to be inside our cozy house listening to it, heat on, while watching "Once Upon A Time." (Is anyone else hooked on that show? So good...)
At 10:30 or so, there was a little thunder and lightning. Nothing too exciting, but noteworthy because in my neck of the woods we get precious little of that. I remember being a kid on vacation with my family in Utah, and having a summer storm hit there. Now THERE they have amazing displays of lightning that lights up the whole sky, and thunder that shakes the windows. I love it. I even love it when the power goes out, unless I need to blow dry my hair.
At last, we turned out the lights, curled up, and L was soon fast asleep. I lay awake listening to the rain coming down outside. And then all of a sudden it came down harder than I've ever heard rain come down before. It was glorious! And L slept through it all, softly snoring. As it wound down again, I soon fell asleep myself.
So you can see that most weekends - heck, most WEEKS - are very very business as usual around here. We'd planned to go see "The Hunger Games" but when we thought about the lines, and the hordes of people we decided to wait another week. We're a little dull like that. Since the kids have grown up and moved on, we've become very complacent with our quiet solitude. It's funny how kids shake things up so much. Sometimes I miss the hubbub and excitement. They were the best of times. But nowadays, I wake up and go to sleep with my best friend. Life has a certain order, it is (mostly) calm, and there is time to take care of myself like I couldn't do when I had small children. (Good thing too because I'm getting old... OLD!)
And then, one day, we look at each other and decide that we've had enough of our quiet time, and we hop a plane to see the grandkids.
Because every now and then you need sweet, sticky kisses
and someone to help you hunt for treasures.
It keeps you young to get down on the floor and play
or go outside and blow crazy amounts of bubbles.
Every so often in the winter, Mema wants to play in the snow with someone special
or stir up a pan of brownies with an assistant chef.
Papa gets a hankering to build a grand sandcastle with the kind of small helper
who brings her own tools.
And who can resist this sweet little treat? I am in withdrawals as we speak...
Yes, our quiet life is good. To a point. And then I start to daydream about birthday parties, silly songs, building forts, and reading bedtime stories. I'm convinced it's good for the heart. I know it's good for the soul.