It is mid-afternoon on the first Saturday of summer and all of my children are sleeping. The furry puppy ones are passed out after a romp in the yard. The nearly ten-year-old daughter one is asleep in my bed with a fever of over 101.
It is mid-afternoon on the first Saturday of summer and as I try to stay quiet, I find myself drawn back to days just like this when the clouds rolled over and I curled up with a book. When my only have-to was to get to answer the tap-tap of a shepherd’s nose on the handle to the back door.
When I sat in the porch swing and rocked a sleeping baby. When I pushed a tiny girl on the swings in the backyard and played catch as her hand grew into her mitt. When I planned a birthday party at a park, a pool, a pool-park, and on the same front porch. When the world slowed down and I could catch my breath and my words.
It is mid-afternoon on the first Saturday of summer. The clouds will pass. The fever will break. The porch swing will sway in the breeze. The books’ pages will turn. The party planning will begin. And, yes, the children will wake, ready to play in the sun.
For now, in the quiet of the mid-afternoon on this first Saturday of summer, I catch these words and my breath. The world slows down.