Take a bite
The husband and I went out on a date last Sunday. G wasn't home on our anniversary so we took some time later in the weekend to celebrate. It was pretty nice to go out to a sit-down restaurant, without children and without interruptions. And as frequently happens, my food couldn't compete with G.'s order. It never fails - I order something that sounds good, and then I look over at what he's having and I want it instead. So my chicken burrito did not taste as good as those bites of carne asada that he had. And what was funny - G knew it even before I had taken a bite.
The night got even better as we had time to sit and talk about everything, again with out children or interruption.
When we came home our son was in the shower, and was unaware we were back. So one of us thought it would be funny to scare him. We hid in his newly-finished closet (G's project for the weekend) and when he came upstairs - the girls convinced him it was necessary - we jumped out. The look on his face was priceless. I had a good laugh. Even now it makes me smile.
In other arenas of the week.... school is winding down, both for us at home and the boy away. He 'graduates' from 8th grade this year. Summer will be full of hiking, weeding at the farm, processing food, weeding some more, swimming and hopefully camping. Now that the littlest is 3, I look forward to camping again. And bike rides. And warm nights.
Earlier in the week we went to a memorial service for a dear man in our church. Interestingly it was held on Memorial Day, and the man had served too. Taps was played - and just like every other time - it made me cry. Of course, there were many moments of tears at that Celebration of Life. And it was a celebration! It made me think back to my own father-in-law's funeral. His death was sudden and shocking. I also reflected on how my husband's, or even my own service will be someday. Will people laugh? Will I get a chance to tell them the music I want? Will anyone get up and say nice things, funny things, or will it be vanilla platitudes? I guess that will all depend on how we/I are living right now.
The night got even better as we had time to sit and talk about everything, again with out children or interruption.
When we came home our son was in the shower, and was unaware we were back. So one of us thought it would be funny to scare him. We hid in his newly-finished closet (G's project for the weekend) and when he came upstairs - the girls convinced him it was necessary - we jumped out. The look on his face was priceless. I had a good laugh. Even now it makes me smile.
In other arenas of the week.... school is winding down, both for us at home and the boy away. He 'graduates' from 8th grade this year. Summer will be full of hiking, weeding at the farm, processing food, weeding some more, swimming and hopefully camping. Now that the littlest is 3, I look forward to camping again. And bike rides. And warm nights.
Earlier in the week we went to a memorial service for a dear man in our church. Interestingly it was held on Memorial Day, and the man had served too. Taps was played - and just like every other time - it made me cry. Of course, there were many moments of tears at that Celebration of Life. And it was a celebration! It made me think back to my own father-in-law's funeral. His death was sudden and shocking. I also reflected on how my husband's, or even my own service will be someday. Will people laugh? Will I get a chance to tell them the music I want? Will anyone get up and say nice things, funny things, or will it be vanilla platitudes? I guess that will all depend on how we/I are living right now.
Despite the fact that Taps is played in a major key (typically "happy" sounding) and is only twenty-four notes long, there really isn't a song more eternally haunting or reverent when played slowly. One of my high school band mates played Taps for many local funerals, and his timing was perfect. Sent chills down my spine and brought reality to focus.
ReplyDeleteThough Taps is so beautiful, it is never pleasant to hear. Thought for the day.