Summer Morning

Hi All. I thought now would be a good time for me to finally step into posting here at TFLS.

This is a bit of a departure from politics as usual because I have a 7 week old baby and my brain just can't wrap itself around anything too complicated at the moment. This is cross posted at Soul Gardening. 

Enjoy!

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You open the front door, and step out into a shockingly bright sunlit morning, your senses immediately overwhelmed. Sometimes it amazes you that all of this, a feast, a riot of sights and sounds, exists right outside your door.

Your eyes, accustomed to the indoors, take a moment to adjust. You squint up to see an impossibly blue sky, the color of swimming pools or ocean horizons.

The cicadas are whirring busily, keeping time with the calls of sea birds, larks and robins. The rhythmic sound reminds you of a thousand summer mornings of your childhood.

The day is already humid and steamy at 7:30, the air thick and so heavy you can feel it on your skin. The change in temperature from the cool house to the hot morning inexplicably gives you goose bumps. You breathe in the deep, warm scent of a thousand blooming things, tinged slightly with the briny ocean air.

A large black garden snake undulates its way from the driveway to the hedges when it feels your footsteps as you make your way toward your car. Slipping behind the wheel the seat feels sticky under the backs of your legs as you wait for the air conditioning to kick in.

You drive past a summer-empty primary school and remember that feeling of utter freedom, an entire three months stretching endlessly before you, full of possibility.

Sometimes, you long for that latitude and ease of being, when baths were taken once a week, feet turned black on the bottoms after long days spent outside barefoot, frozen treats were eaten so quickly to avoid melting that they made your head throb and time seemed to move infinitesimally slowly.

And then, you realize. You will get to experience this all anew through the eyes of your child. Suddenly you want to drink it in, to gulp it and process it as fast as you can so that you will have it to share with him when the time comes.

A thousand summer mornings waiting for him and for you.

Comments

[oldwhitelady]

The sounds and sights you've written about can easily be pictured. Sharing it with your child will bring things you wouldn't have noticed before. Wonderful~

[The Fat Lady Sings]

Beautifully put, my dear. I always felt that the process of discovery would be what I'd want to share most with a child. Plucking a daisy, tasting sour grass for the first time, watching clouds shape and reshape against a cerulean sky. You are indeed blessed to be gifted with that opportunity.

[sumo]

Lovely way of describing a day. You are right about seeing it with your child...and through its eyes. It gains a different perspective every time.