warm, fuzzy feeling of a mother-to-be, I lost myself in the moment, piecing together her wardrobe in that fairytale boutique, until clumsy Mama literally stumbled upon the perfect furniture set, hand-crafted, real wood, and intricately ornate, at a discount store for a fraction of what it would have cost at a boutique.
Her left ankle caught one of the dainty spiral legs, and hollering loudly, she plummeted to the ground, landing face first with a loud BANG! The store owner rushed over to us at the speed of lightning, horrified.
“I’m so sorry, ma’am! Are you okay?” His face was red as a beet, and I’m sure he was calculating how much this could cost him. Mama was fine other than pain and suffering from sheer embarrassment, but the store owner offered us an extra twenty percent discount as consolation.
Needless to say, Andrew was proud of the results of our excavation.
It took nearly all weekend to perfectly piece together Calla’s furniture, but seeing the finished product was satisfying. On Sunday night, I found myself enjoying the cool night breeze and awe-inspiring sunset from our back porch. Our view of the sunset never failed to be less than incredible—it was my favorite thing about our attractive neighborhood. Whenever the sun began its retreat, the sky swirled with an artist’s palette, creating inexplicable pictures throughout the vast space. The colors bounced off the crystal clear ponds and illuminated the bristling trees. Clouds melted into balloons and roses and the occasional cartoon animal. From our rustic back porch swing, I could hear birds chirping cheerily and crickets singing peacefully. I was wrapped in a solace, sheltered from the stress of my everyday life.
I craved all things spiritual, searching for a gateway to transcend this pit I had fallen into. The need to pray, or meditate, or something , burned brightly from the sparks of my spirit. I had never actually meditated but always wanted to, more pressing things moving further up my bucket list. I could enroll in one of those classes. Maybe I would transform into some version of a Zen goddess, escaping my unfair professional reality into a mental solace of “being” that hopefully involved love, sex, and chocolate…
Fizzling out of my daydream, I fingered the cover of the inspirational book I held. I should start with prayer—that, I had practice at.
“God, you have blessed me more than I deserve,” I prayed aloud, my voice not much louder than a whisper among the chanting wildlife. “I thank you for the many blessings that you have allowed Andrew and me to experience. You have given us more than we deserve.”
I listened to myself, hating how rehearsed I sounded, so disgustingly “religious.” I relaxed and started talking to God like I used to … like a friend.
“I need your help getting me through this conflict at work. I have a sinking feeling, like everything is going to go wrong, but I know you have a plan for me. You always have and you always will. So … don’t leave me.”
Suddenly, tears threatened to cascade in waterfalls, and I lost the ability to speak out loud. I tried hard to choke them back, but a few escaped, echoing the sound of pain. It felt good to release some of the hurt that had built up inside of me, and when it was over, I sensed peace, a whisper of hope. The old familiar wrap of comfort that granted me the faith to believe everything would be all right.
Sunset darkened to night, and a chill skipped through my bloodstream, the tiny hairs on the back of my neck prickling. The moon was bright and almost full, gleaming boldly in the turquoise-black sky. The birds hushed, settling in for their evening slumber, and the crickets chirped louder, announcing their dominion over the darkness. Andrew’s prized deck boasted a partial canopy shelter that was aesthetically attractive yet generously allowed for the pristine moonlight to shine through.
We longed for this brief time where we could roast
Her left ankle caught one of the dainty spiral legs, and hollering loudly, she plummeted to the ground, landing face first with a loud BANG! The store owner rushed over to us at the speed of lightning, horrified.
“I’m so sorry, ma’am! Are you okay?” His face was red as a beet, and I’m sure he was calculating how much this could cost him. Mama was fine other than pain and suffering from sheer embarrassment, but the store owner offered us an extra twenty percent discount as consolation.
Needless to say, Andrew was proud of the results of our excavation.
It took nearly all weekend to perfectly piece together Calla’s furniture, but seeing the finished product was satisfying. On Sunday night, I found myself enjoying the cool night breeze and awe-inspiring sunset from our back porch. Our view of the sunset never failed to be less than incredible—it was my favorite thing about our attractive neighborhood. Whenever the sun began its retreat, the sky swirled with an artist’s palette, creating inexplicable pictures throughout the vast space. The colors bounced off the crystal clear ponds and illuminated the bristling trees. Clouds melted into balloons and roses and the occasional cartoon animal. From our rustic back porch swing, I could hear birds chirping cheerily and crickets singing peacefully. I was wrapped in a solace, sheltered from the stress of my everyday life.
I craved all things spiritual, searching for a gateway to transcend this pit I had fallen into. The need to pray, or meditate, or something , burned brightly from the sparks of my spirit. I had never actually meditated but always wanted to, more pressing things moving further up my bucket list. I could enroll in one of those classes. Maybe I would transform into some version of a Zen goddess, escaping my unfair professional reality into a mental solace of “being” that hopefully involved love, sex, and chocolate…
Fizzling out of my daydream, I fingered the cover of the inspirational book I held. I should start with prayer—that, I had practice at.
“God, you have blessed me more than I deserve,” I prayed aloud, my voice not much louder than a whisper among the chanting wildlife. “I thank you for the many blessings that you have allowed Andrew and me to experience. You have given us more than we deserve.”
I listened to myself, hating how rehearsed I sounded, so disgustingly “religious.” I relaxed and started talking to God like I used to … like a friend.
“I need your help getting me through this conflict at work. I have a sinking feeling, like everything is going to go wrong, but I know you have a plan for me. You always have and you always will. So … don’t leave me.”
Suddenly, tears threatened to cascade in waterfalls, and I lost the ability to speak out loud. I tried hard to choke them back, but a few escaped, echoing the sound of pain. It felt good to release some of the hurt that had built up inside of me, and when it was over, I sensed peace, a whisper of hope. The old familiar wrap of comfort that granted me the faith to believe everything would be all right.
Sunset darkened to night, and a chill skipped through my bloodstream, the tiny hairs on the back of my neck prickling. The moon was bright and almost full, gleaming boldly in the turquoise-black sky. The birds hushed, settling in for their evening slumber, and the crickets chirped louder, announcing their dominion over the darkness. Andrew’s prized deck boasted a partial canopy shelter that was aesthetically attractive yet generously allowed for the pristine moonlight to shine through.
We longed for this brief time where we could roast
Similar Books
