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Saturday, February 27, 2010

Eleven for Eleven

  • Scenes of Brian making espresso. Carefully, meticulously, anticipatory.
  • My dad. All 87 years of him. His now watery eyes, papery skin, halting walk. Attitude of surprised, humble gratitude. ("every single day, I thank God for my loving children..")
  • The sun, kissing the planet from a new angle now, sticking around for longer hours, teasing the snow into droplets to drop from my roof in icicles.
  • Cycles. The change from work days to weekends. I enjoy them all, but without the contrast, the sweetness would be lacking.
  • My daughter who just called to tell me that her basketball team won in zones, and are headed for provincials.
  • The sound of the furnace. Sometimes the house actually gets quiet enough to hear the furnace. It sounds warm, and cozy, and secure. Like we're a family, and we're going to be all right.
  • An hour of quiet. Which for the very first time in what feels like a really long time.... I just might begin right now.

1 comment:

Candy said...

I remember our furnance growing up and it was just as you described it, warm, cozy and secure. The furnace I have now here in Georgia is the same, it comforts me when it goes off every 20 minutes, I love it. It is almost saying in a lulling voice, "the house is at peace now, go to sleep mama!" If I can't hear it that means someones awake in their bed and then there is no sleeping for me.
Candy