taste it

I spent, likely, my last Saturday night with the boys last weekend. Matt and Nick. I've been their 'stand-in' while my sister's gone exploring the unknown of foreign countries. They're her pride and joy. She's been with them close to six years and they adore the ground she stands on. Wonderful boys. They almost make me want a few. Never thought I'd be saying that.

Soccer balls soared across the yard at sunset. Spur-of-the-moment, fully clothed dips in the pool. Their negotiation was won. Blue and blown eyes disappeared behind reflective goggles. Splashes and giggles were music to my ears as I finished up dinner. Summer is close enough to taste.

Politeness earns adventure. Little boys with manners deserve exploration. Rushed a blonde and a brunette out the garage door, grabbed scooters and we were off. The race began. Three of us racing the sun to the finish line. Rules were made clear: crosswalks alone are forbidden, recklessness around patrons was unacceptable and maintaining manners was essential. Agreed upon. The race continued.

The eldest adventured further than my blue-eyed baby. Living to push the limits. Conversation trumps struggle in baby blue's world. Finding protection in conversation.

Our prize was in sight. Petite legs pushed harder, little feet moved with urgency. Spin. Self-serve frozen yogurt. Anxious eyes glared at me from crosswalks as to say, 'hurry! we're so close!'

Scooters propped against the building. Cups filled quickly. Concoctions mentally prepared. Finding a seat outside, we shared spoons. Heaping spoonfuls of candies and tart yogurt and popping boba. This time my older one finds comfort in connection. Shares knowledge about passing cars and motors and why I don't want a motorcycle license.

Our adventure is slowing dwindling down as the sun sinks beyond the horizon. Close to my side on the trek home. Pointer fingers and big eyes on the 'super moon.' Again, knowledge about the moon is heard from the older one. Retained information, like a sponge, from TIME Kid's. I didn't even know that existed.

The night ended with jamies and toothbrushes and hugs and giggles. Sweet, sweet giggles. Conversation continued until the lights were forced out. I pray they remember these days when they are older. I pray they remember this feeling. When they drive downtown at their leisure. When they spend more time with friends and less time with each other. The day when these adventures are not so special.

I pray they long for this feeling; hopeful that we made memories they'll long for. The magical feeling they allowed me to feel again. Carefree, summer adventures amongst nature.

Unexplainable tingles that summer is so close & Saturday night, we took a big bite and tasted it.

Shining light upon ordinary

How I long for inspiration. Someday, I'm borderline begging for it. The kind that awakens another side of my being. Forces an out of body experience. Instills empowerment and weightlessness, butterflies and spine chills. That "no one can stop me, I'm going to make it, you may not know my name but you will" kind of feeling.

Once in a blue moon, the universe surprises me. Shining light upon ordinary. Sparking questions amongst routine. Inviting itself into my heart and is graciously welcomed with open arms. I become more appreciative of these moments more and more when I'm longing and wishing and hoping for inspiration and it is nowhere to be found. I go to write and I have nothing. Fingers tapping and clicking, itching to write, only to find that they're still riding the last burst of inspiration's coattail.

I question if inspiration is attainable when desired. I've flirted with this idea through days of predictability. I trust that inspiration is all around us-- with the curiosity to explore it. Snuggling teary-eyed babies who miss their Momma. Candlelit showers on a Saturday morning. Fresh fruit smoothies at breakfast. Cracked windows on unseasonably chilly nights. Girlfriends belly laughing over glasses of white Zinfandel. Cool grass tickling bare feet that dangle just beyond a blankets edge.

Inspiration. We're unknowingly drowning in it.  Societal embedded blinders keep us from enjoying the beauty. Suffice our hunger to bask in the sun of inspiration. The beauty in the ordinary, beauty in routine, beauty in the predictable. I'm starving for it more often than not. All I have to do is seek and I will find. Beauty is all around us.

Better Friends

You have friends and you have better friends. Most importantly though, you have core friends.

They laugh with me the way my sister and I giggle till our abs ache; have witnessed, first hand, streams of tears when my feelings are disregarded. Core friends understand my tough exterior is merely that, an exterior, and their reaction to the vinyl wall quote I hold up in the middle of a Target isle at 8:00 on a Tuesday night asking, "how do you feel about this?" is "not bad... well, the beige bothers me." I put it back on the rack. Not because she didn't like it but because she inconceivably pin-pointed the reason I just wasn't sold on the vinyl quote. It was all the beige.

I once read that a woman should never have a 'best' friend. Friends should not be ordered, for each serves a unique purpose in life. I do however, recognize that fact that I have core friends. We talk about our lives together. There are many 'when we have children, promise me we will do that with them' and even more 'tell me right now our husbands will be friends, too.'  That promise was made. Those men have no choice, now. That's the best part about it though: we'll wait for those men. For that time. For our time.

There will come a day when we will pick up the phone to a screaming voice saying, I'm engaged, and another day it will be, I'm pregnant. We will celebrate the happiness of our friends. We'll drool over diamonds. They will hold me together when I walk down that isle and I will, without question, reciprocate. There will be afternoons where we'll rub growing bellies and find humor in the bellybutton poking out.We will love one another's children as if they are our own. We will kiss them and hold them and love them and celebrate them.  We will celebrate.

There will be days where we look into the eyes of these God sent woman and say I can't do it. I will hold them with no intention of letting go. Only then, when they find the strength within themselves to keep going, I will unwrap my arms but never will I let go of their hand. I wish I could say that we will never have days or weeks or even months where we feel that monkey jumping on our back. The weight on our shoulders that is too heavy to carry alone. Times where we feel like we just can't. At 20-something-years-old, there will be those times. The sun will rise again and we will celebrate. Celebrate another victory; an obstacle overcome.

We will celebrate with pink drinks in fancy glasses, high heels and the unspoken admiration for one another.

We will celebrate.