Laying in my bed, all feels right with the world.
Truth be told, its not actually “my” bed, but the one I use when I visit my grandparents. The one that I have used almost every visit my entire life. The bed that is next to the one my brother slept in when we were kids but is now occupied by my two children. This is the house my father and his brothers grew up in. The only place I’ve known my grandparents to live. The house with the large yard with the tall trees, a novelty for a girl who spent all but her first four years of life on the prairie. The house with the hallway that ended with the linen and toy closet, that to my little kid self, felt at least 20 yards long. The house across the pond that must have a million frogs that sing you to sleep each night while the hum of the big trucks on the nearby highway add their own notes to the song. The house that has the sweet smell, like only a place does, that is in a humid environment. The house that is bursting with memories. This is what I have known, always known, a source of peace when my adult reality is a constant state of change.
While this house, this family, hasn’t been without its set of challenges, I’m thankful for the gift of time and the stability it has provided on this side of eternity. I know how fortunate we have been. Purely from a numbers game, time is no longer on our side. But was it ever? I’m no longer naive enough to think that the time clock runs out only for those advanced in their years. I know each moment we’re given can’t be taken for granted.
But for this moment, I push all that aside. I’ll savor the sound of my sweet babes as their breath falls heavy as they sleep. I’m thankful that they too can make memories in this house and experience the love of the people in it. I’ll soak up the scent of this room and store it away in my mind. And I’ll let frogs and trucks serenade me to sleep just like they have done for 30+ summers. I’ll drift off with thankfulness in my heart that once again, we were given the gift of time to bottle up another round of summer memories, in this house, with these people.
The peaceful sounds of night from the porch of my grandparent’s house.