Seven Year Itch?

Seven years is a long time.

It's long enough to become the member of the family that can only be looked up to metaphorically. At  some point along the way, Oldest, Middle, and Youngest have all felt the need to pull back from a  hug to exclaim, "you're so little!" Relatively speaking, they are not wrong.

It's long enough to go from living under the same roof to the closest living most of the year nine and a half hours away and the furthest not living on the same date as the rest of us for most of our overlapping awake hours. The math has become tricky.

It's long enough to have lived a life on the run, full top-secret intrigue that I only once imagined might be real. And if it is, I still can't tell you. That's rule number one. So you'll never know for sure that it didn't happen.

It's long enough to have finally finished all the hidden cookies, both at home and at school, inducing an epic nap in my favorite spot on the sofa. One that makes Rumpelstiltskin look like an amateur. The location of the cookies has changed; the spot on the sofa has not.

It's long enough to not even try to explain or make excuses about where I've been, or more specifically, why I haven't been here.  Or why I'm back. Or to wonder if waiting seven years was deliberate; a patient writer looking to reemerge with a clever title for a post.

Seven years is a long time indeed.

SOLSC and Maya Angelo

“Making a decision to write was a lot like deciding to jump into a frozen lake.” 

― Maya Angelou

If I didn't know better, I'd think that Ms. Angelou had participated in the SOLSC. If we're being honest, most of us think it's a little nuts to commit to the challenge of writing daily at this time of year...sort of like leaping knowingly into a frozen lake. On the other hand, there is the hope that the exhilarating jolt of jumping in with both feet will shock us out of the lethargy brought on by the long dark cold days of winter.

Either way, at the end of the month, we can look back and say we're glad we did it. In fact, most of us  already know we'll do it again. Sort of makes you look at those who jump into frozen lakes with a little more respect, right? A decision. One that may initially appear crazy, but in the end is worth it...for one reason or another.

The Hunt

When The Three were little, Easter morning always started with an egg hunt. Oldest was joined by Middle and then Youngest, and they would carry baskets from room to room, trailing strands of plastic grass as they searched not-so-high and more-often-low for colored eggs. In recent years, the hunt has been a little different. One Easter morning, they arrived downstairs to find little notes in the places the baskets usually waited. That was the first year for the Easter basket treasure hunt. The clues led them all over the house and outside--math problems, book titles or events, poems, songs, riddles and jokes. Some clues were easy; some required more time and thought to solve. Clue led to clue until the treat-filled baskets were found.

This year Oldest is not home for Easter, and the rest of us will get up early to drive to visit out-of-town Grandma and Grandpa. It will be fun, but I'll miss the hunt. Even though there will still be special treats for The Three, I think they will miss it too. We could do a hunt with just Middle and Youngest, but it's more fun with all of them, and it would have to be a short hunt...where's the fun in that? Part of the fun is watching them grapple with a particularly hard clue. In fact, that's the best part. Doing the hunt part way would mean losing the stuff that makes it fun, so we'll just wait for next year. Of course, this does give me a lot more time to come up with some good clues...The Three are pretty clever, and I could use the extra time.

East and West

This morning, I started my day curled up on the end of the long sofa where I can look up from my book and see out the East-facing dining room windows. I like watching the sky get lighter through the branches of the trees behind our fence.

Tonight, I settled in on the other sofa, where I can look up from my computer and see out the West-facing windows that overlook the front porch. I like that I can see darkness fall down the sky behind the trees in our neighbors' yards.

I feel a little like the shadow cast by the gnomon on a sundial; my feet a pivot point on the ottoman as I move from one sofa to the other, East-facing and West-facing.

Things I will never say

"I don't think we have room for any more books."

"I love roller coasters!"

"I'll take the brussels spouts."

"Chocolate and coffee are overrated."

"I hope we get a chance to bungee jump."

"Live where there are not any trees? Why not?"

"I'm never going outside again."

decisions

Sometimes easy decisions are hard to make.

Like this morning, when I was at the store and stood in front of the bookshelves with Oldest, talking about what books and authors and series we've both read and both want to read. He walked out with one. I left with nothing because I couldn't decide, but that's ok, because I'll read his, and Middle already gave me one she had finished.

Tonight, Youngest and I couldn't decide what we wanted to have for dinner. After a bit of discussion, we realized that the heart of the problem was that we both really wanted snacks. He wanted ice cream; I wanted chips and salsa. The part we couldn't decide was what "real" food to have first. Ultimately we didn't decide on dinner. We each ate a banana, thinking that might count for any sort of healthy eating requirement if someone asked. Then we ate snacks.

I thought my toughest decision tonight might be what to slice. I was wrong. The whole time I've been typing this (how do my fingers get this done when my mind is on something else? strange...), I've been contemplating whether to read here on the sofa after I post, or up in my bed. I'm already here, and so is the book, but my pajamas and the big comforter are up there. I'm not sure what to do. It shouldn't be that hard, and yet here I sit, wavering.

unexpected

Today when I got to work, these were on my desk, along with a card and chocolate.
No special occasion.
Not a treat from Husband.
A friend was there when I was not, and left them behind.

On a day with too many things to do,
blustery cold outside,
and the
weight of stress-filled
recent days,
my desk suddenly looked appealing.

My day started with an unexpected surprise,
chocolate to go with my coffee,
and the scent of roses
every time
I entered the room.