Josiah, the other day, after riding lessons. He was sitting in the truck, drinking water, legs dangling out of the open door. He took a swig, wiped his mouth and said (out of the blue). . .
"Now, when I get my own horse, that will be a whole other story.
I have two cats and a dog.
Now I need some chicks and some chickens so we can get some eggs.
And maybe more dogs.
And some cows? Or Goats?
We need to get these animals for our farm, mom.
And maybe a lizard."
Today, upon seeing that the kittens food dish was empty, Josiah said,
"They will get foodrated, like they get dehydrated if they have no water!!"
Tonight, as Isaac was praying before bed, he prayed,
". . .And be with Daniel as he roams this wide world, discovering things. . ."
I cried when he said that.
Speaking of crying . . . my grandfather's sister, Josie, died today. She was 89 years. old.
We heard about it at dinner when his niece called with the news.
My mom cried, and grandpa was quiet and sad.
Isaac cried too. "I miss grandma and pop so much!" he wailed.
Every new death opens up the old ones for Isaac, for all of us.
Death is hard for him, and he expresses that well, which I think is good for him.
I remember my Aunt Josie in snatches. Her laugh, her deep voice. A faint recollection of a scent. Seeing her at funerals, weddings, family gatherings at Aunt Mill's when I was a little, little girl.
She walks the very edge of my memory, but she is there.
Grandpa had a big family.
Seventeen brothers and sisters.
I am sad to say that I do not know very many of them well.
My heart breaks for my grandfather, at that age where brothers and sisters and friends and wife are passing from this life, watching them go, staying behind . . . for now.
It makes me appreciate today. Makes me appreciate the breath in my lungs and the people who are here with me, breathing.
Today, I woke up early, went grocery shopping, dropped Daniel off with my mom, went to the new house and painted and picked berries, went and had dinner with Gramp and mom (the boys went fishing in the pond and Isaac caught two bass!), went to Starbucks with mom and the boys for shaken iced teas (mom and I) a frappuccino (Isaac) an organic chocolate milk (Josiah) and apple juices (Daniel and Ben, who is staying with us for a few days).
The day was so busy and full of hard work and small frustrations.
But there were moments too. Good moments.
Like when Josiah shot an arrow 50 feet with no help, a big feat for a little guy like him.
Or when Isaac caught two bass while fishing with his brother and his friend in the late afternoon sun.
Or sitting in the truck, the warm prairie wind blowing through the open windows as we all drank our cool drinks and talked about the excitements of the day.
When we got home, the boys showered and played so nicely at the table, building forts with their log cabin sets piecemeal with other toys, or whatever they could find to hook their forts up.
Isaac's fort.
Ben's fort.
Josiah's fort.
Playing so nicely.
Handsome brace face.
Running with the big dogs.
Daniel, God love him, will eat anything from anywhere at anytime (Did I write about the eating of the pond mud? I think not. Hmm. Probably just as well. It's too gross to recount!).Sometimes I would swear he is the grossest baby on the planet.
Today, instead of pond mud, or his own poop, or crackers that had been swept up into a pile of dirt on the floor, or the bottom of his shoe (all things he has, in fact, eaten), he actually picked a better grade of garbage, and licked a discarded foil lid of a chocolate Jell-o pudding cup until it shone and reflected his grimy little face.
Wondering where mom was?
All the while I was obliviously putting groceries away.
I thought he was just toddling around the kitchen, happy as a clam for no reason.
Yeah, right!
He's a stealthy little fellow, when he wants to be.
So, today had it's ups and downs, like most days do, I suppose.Now, all the boys are asleep.
Daniel is laying here beside me, clean as a whistle and cute as a button.
And for a moment, I wish it were always like this. Everyone safe and sound . . . and clean.
But that's just not how life is.
I will enjoy it this little while though.
And I will be ready to face the fray . . . tomorrow.
