Sometimes

Sometimes I cook really good things.

And we go on walks after dinner.

And we collectively cheer the lighter skies as spring approaches.

And look for ice to crunch with our boots.

Sometimes, we go fishing with sticks.

And draw arrows in the snow.

Sometimes we look for poop.  (There's lots of poop to find, and at least a variety of species contribute.)

Sometimes we have chocolate pudding for dessert.

Sometimes we wail and cry into the evening because we can't be wild children forever.

And we lament the loss of the day.

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Sometimes my dreams are so intensely emotional they linger with me the whole day long.

Like last night's dream of a little boy who drowned.  Adam and I were leading a group of kids along some tide pools at the ocean, on a coast like at Larrabee park.  A storm came and many of us got separated.  June and Miles had followed a larger boy and Miles was safe.  June was way out of my reach flailing and splashing in water.  I had to swing like a Tarzan-mom, jumping and grabbing on to a rope across a big expanse of air to reach my June who was trying to grab onto an overturned boat.

I got to her and made sure she was safe.  The little boy though, Russ, who had huge apple-y cheeks and stocky build, got lost in the storm.  The story continued in the dream, including how Russ had tried to get away and out of the storm by climbing a tree.  But it was not enough.

And we had to tell his parents.

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Sometimes my Dad makes me cry at work by sending me lyrics to songs that are about fatherhood and how much they love their daughters.

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This week I plan to post about beekeeping, snowboarding, and things I've created.  Stick around friends!