The kids sputter in and out of the room, blurting out non-sequiturs: Mom, I Googled 'what is Greta's future' and it said 'no responses found!'. I am imagining what it would be like if dogs could play soccer. How many seconds in a whole day?
This afternoon I took the kids to the movies. Finn is still young enough that he wanted to snuggle in my lap. Greta even rested her head on my shoulder. Bliss.
As we left the theater, we ran into some boys from her class. "Hi Greta!" one yelled enthusiastically. "You're so TALL!" She blushed, uncertain whether she's been complimented or not. As we walk through the drizzling rain in the parking lot, the boys' voices echoed behind us: Bye, Greta! Bye Grrrrrrrrrrreta! See you tomorrow in class!
Her cheeks blushed a fierce reddish pink, but she was smiling. I knew better than to say anything about it all.
As we clamber into the car, Finn asked me, for the thousandth time, 'how many days away is Tuesday?' He has a play date with two classmates - girls - and he is beyond excited. He seems to be a girl magnet, probably because of his gentle manner and easy smile.
Yesterday he told me he likes play dates with girls because "they don't try to make me feel badly, like they are better than me at everything."
I didn't really have a response to that, so I hugged him.
I am ramping up my yoga practice, trying more challenging classes. Today my body is achy all over; I'm feeling muscles I never knew I had. It's a good hurt, though, because it reminds me I'm getting stronger. This time last year I was growing weaker and weaker as radiation and chemotherapy started to take their toll.
I feel a rush of gratitude every time my muscles burn.
The other day Finn said to me, out of the blue: I'm glad you're here, Momma.
I don't know if he knows exactly what he meant by that, but it doesn't matter. My heart soared and I blinked back tears as I said "Me too, buddy. Me too".
The Patriots are winning. The fire is warm, and the kids are laughing.
Life is good.