As I lay on the sofa resting before a party I am helping to host tonight, I ponder the changes outside my living room window. I spend a lot of time on that sofa, gazing out the window. When Simeon is here, in my lap, on that sofa is the only place he will sleep. I call myself the Fluffo. During those three or four hour naps, I have some time to contemplate the world outside that big picture window.
I watch the seasons change. Today, the wind is blowing. The brilliant yellow leaves are trying desperately to hang on, but they are dropping rapidly. I watch the leaves from my neighbor's house racing across the street into my yard. I do not care. Max will have even more leaves to walk through and kick up into the air tomorrow. It seems just yesterday that silvery green leaves were holding on tightly as they cast welcome shade on our "elfin al fresco dining spot." We will be seeking sunshine tomorrow as we, perhaps, have our morning snack there. If we are lucky, sometime before new leaves begin to bud, we will see a blanket of snow covering those branches.
Sometimes, as I sit on that sofa, gazing out that window, I see a little boy and his daddy walking down the street. That little one will be talking in his little boy voice...earnestly talking about running, running, running, or pointing out the mailbox, leaves, grass, rocks and sticks as though DaDa needed the lesson. I like to just sit and watch them.
There are those days when I see Sheri driving up the street in George, turning into the driveway either delivering or picking up Max. On rarer occasions I see Marshall in his truck pulling in the drive, possibly dropping his much loved son off to spend the day. Both sets of parents, living with small children, are grateful for a respite. As the parent of adults, I am grateful to be in their presence, whenever I have the opportunity.
Probably, my two favorite sights out that window are when Mr. Lincoln comes home, and when he is out walking with the boys, holding a tiny hand in each of his. I know he is happy. I know they are happy, and while the boys will not remember those specific occasions, their lives are being shaped by those moments with their Fizzie as he gives them undivided attention - carving pumpkins, picking up sticks, throwing leaves into the air, discussing the complexities of life, walking around the block.
In the next week or so, that big window (and all the others) will have to be washed in anticipation of the 35 or so folks coming for Thanksgiving. Mr. Lincoln and I do that together ~ twice a year. Every time it takes about 4 windows before we get the rhythm down, but we work side by side, mainly without talking, to get the job done. There are no curtains on my windows. I dearly love to see out. It is a quiet street. If more than 3 cars come by within an hour or so, I know there is a problem on Harding.
Life is not idyllic. We have problems. We have hurts. We have pettiness. We have pain. We "act the fool" from time to time. But, today, on this sunny, cold, fall afternoon, outside my living room window, life seems pretty fine.
For today, I wish you beautiful sights outside your window, and I wish you
blessings
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