It smelled like rain. Like dirt, and grasping fistfuls of possibility. Rain is the tabula rasa of scents.
We had a purpose-driven morning so I did not give indulgence to tarrying for puddle-jumping, but I did drive right next to the curb in the viaduct so the drainage pipe from the highway above us could blast us with its 4" torrent. A tempest in a spigot cascaded over the left headlight, the hood, the windshield. I opened the cover to the sunroof and we watched the splash roll by, then in sound and fury, off the tailgate and away.
Last weekend was Boston, the one before that was G's birthday, the one before that was a funeral and the recovery of the lovely husband's week-long absence, and the one before that was E's birthday. For this weekend, E has asked to have a Nuclear Family Party.
"And what do we do at a nuclear family party, love?"
Well, we color. We eat snacks. We watch a movie together on one couch. You know. And Daddy and G wear ties and we girls wear fancy clothes.
I think she's asking for some (fancy) down time.
"When should we have this party?"
Saturday, at three o'clock in the morning.
"Do you know that we're all asleep at three o'clock in the morning?" (I hope…)
Oh! Well then, that's when the party starts for God and the angels. When do we wake up?
"Usually around 7 or so."
Well, of course, for us...the party begins at seven o'clock in the morning.
It's marvelous to note that after the rain cleared, I saw the first blossoms emerging on the trees. A friend pointed to the verdant tips of confident crocuses. Onward, leafy soldiers. Secure the mulchy perimeter and let not that snow ever trespass again.
I think tomorrow we'll spend our Saturday quietly, together, as we always do, but tomorrow night I'll be sure to spend lots of time in color, and then in movie-watching.
But after the kids go to bed tonight, I'm going to set the dining room table with my favorite blue velvet placemats and our good china. I'm going to hang purple streamers from the ceiling and I've already acquired some bright balloons. The party starts when we wake up, and it's all too rare (never, to date) that we eat our breakfast on china under purple streamers. I think nuclear family parties call for some pomp.
I do believe I'll wear my pearls with my fanciest pink squirrel flannel pajama pants.
I love the beginning of spring, and the promise of a whole day with my loves.