What is there to write about?
Things I want to remember and things I want to forget. Feelings and impressions, snapshots of time, every day pleasures and midnight silence.
Today I helped pick out a pair of soccer cleats and a soccer ball for my four-year-old-first-born grandson. His Mama, Opa and I witnessed a milestone in his little life and afterwards celebrated the occasion with a practice session in the backyard. Isn’t that worthy of a few words?
Things that are meaningful to me and my family. Birthday parties and shark shaped pinatas. And the way this infernal contraption upon which I am typing keeps changing the word “pinatas” into “pirates” and refuses to allow me to spell the word correctly in Spanish. (What? No “enyay” key?)
Several nights ago my husband and I spent an evening lying outside in our double hammock and staring at the summer night sky. Stars trembled in the darkness. A delicate breeze quickened shadows and moonlight making life, at least for those few hours, so infused with the unexpected buoyancy of divine grace, I almost cried.
Everything about life. That’s what there is to write about.