Kisses in sunbeams

I have my family back together. Hubby picked Little Princess up from the bus station last night and, for the first time since Christmas, the four of us sat down to dinner at our kitchen table. We did it again tonight. It is an indescribable feeling which I’m sure I am not alone in experiencing. It involves love, of course, but also a sense of completeness I can’t find elsewhere. These times are bound to be fewer and fewer. Once the kids get married and start bringing along spouses and children, the immediacy of our family will be lost, replaced by something else. I’m sure it will be good, but it won’t be the same.

The weather was particularly beautiful today and Ed picked Little Princess and me up to take us for a picnic on the university campus lawn by the newly-laid labyrinth. We first walked the path between polished granite strips that were installed on Saturday. I had meant to get involved with that project, but other things came up and I never did. The journey is supposed to be contemplative, meditative. I must confess I found it more sensuous, as we wended our way towards the centre, like finding one’s way back into the womb. Then we sat on the grass and feasted on tuna fish sandwiches, carrot sticks, a combination of Sprite and fruit juice and two-bite brownies for dessert. I lay back on the grass with the peak of my hat shading my upper face, and felt the warm sunshine on my lips like a remembered kiss.

Then Little Princess and I walked to the bank where she straightened out some business regarding her debit card, and returned to meet Ed at the library, whence we drove into town and bought knitting needles at a yarn shop. This particular establishment is in the same store as a florist--yarn store upstairs, florist down--and I found some incredibly beautiful flowering bromeliads. Ed drove us home, we plied him with tea, and then sent him on his way so I could make supper.

I’m feeling much better than I was yesterday and the day before. I think having my kids around makes a difference. I’m not yet ready to relinquish my role as mother. It’s possible I never will.

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