Happiness Penned

Early Autumn and I’m afraid to admit that I worry about how we will do this.
The three of us have something of a history together & we’ve become a petite little unit of our own.
The task of being one in a more permanent sense makes the girl inside of me whimper.
Thankfully, there isn’t a lot of time for that.

Hungry boys.

Tired me.

Miles of monotonous driving each day.

Homework.

Emotions to soothe.

Energy to release.

Focus.

Neverending chatter.

They demand my complete attention.

I don’t know if there is enough of me to divide myself & give them slices that will satisfy.

As I’m preparing a delicious epicurean dinner,
{boiling a box of noodles & heating a jar of spaghetti sauce},
all of the pressure I’m under is making it hard to focus.
Steam kisses my face. Boiling water lifts my spirit.
I know the power of a timely meal.
These exhausted pots & pans, we are old friends.
They know my secrets & keep them in confidence.
When I stand at my stove, I am in good company.
Stirring noodles into golden halos…

<<< LIGHTS GO OUT >>>

I stop breathing for a moment.

Not now.

Not tonight.

It’s not a good time to deal with a power outage!

I don’t have the energy for this nuisance.

Just as I am melting into submission to accept the fate of a dark night-

<<< Laughter >>>

The mischievous cackle of a familiar two year old breaks the silence.
Damian Achilles.
My little, wonderful, monster was the culprit.

The light comes back on.

I breathe again.
I don’t know if I’ve ever been so euphoric to see those darn fluorescent lamps illuminate with their muddy yellow haze.
Little hands little feet little mind working in sync while Mama is preoccupied.
He was proudly standing on a chair flipping the forgotten switch from the other side of the kitchen.
The three of us laugh endlessly as he flickers the lights on & off in a reprisal of his newfound trick.
Deep giggles that send us spinning in a dance and wet my eyes from the sheer ecstasy of relief.

That laughter, that night, in that old kitchen,
has been sound of courage.
We composed something I was afraid couldn’t exist.
The echoes of our revelry nudge me through a drowsy winter that makes me ache to see over the grey.
We thrive and there is a psalm of laughter we have penned to prove it.

 

“Nobody whom this war has touched will ever be happy again in quite the same way. But it will be a better happiness, I think, little sister–a happiness we’ve earned. We were very happy before the war, weren’t we? With a home like Ingleside, and a father and mother like ours we couldn’t help being happy. But that happiness was a gift from life and love; it wasn’t really ours–life could take it back at any time. It can never take away the happiness we win for ourselves in the way of duty. I’ve realised that since I went into khaki. In spite of my occasional funks, when I fall to living over things beforehand, I’ve been happy since that night in May. Rilla, be awfully good to mother while I’m away. It must be a horrible thing to be a mother in this war–the mothers and sisters and wives and sweethearts have the hardest times.”

Walter Blythe to Rilla Blythe in L.M. Montgomery’s Rilla of Ingleside

I have always loved Anne of Green Gables, so this summer I read the whole series. Although I enjoyed all the books, I’m obsessed with Rilla of Ingleside. I have read it twice and started it again. I do really hope someone makes this movie & does it beautiful justice {in the art direction of Downton Abbey}. I think L.M. Montgomery was a brilliant observer & the characters she molded are amusing.
I think she & I would be friends. Maybe in another life. ♥

 

      

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