I made note of the time, as it was one of those moments that I wanted to just close my eyes and savor - to recall when my kids are grown and gone, to remember.
It was actually pretty normal, for a Saturday night around here - but perhaps the very normalcy of it is what attracts me. It reminds me of my own childhood Saturday night routine.
******
I decided to try something new. I brought our over the door ironing board downstairs and laid it precariously on top of my sewing machine (we only have one door on our lower level - and it belongs to the bathroom) and did my ironing while Saturday night played out around me.
Uncle George was behind me on the couch, singing and playing some Waylon Jennings on the guitar.
Wendy was up in the shower. Her Saturday night scrubbing. She was the most anxious for George to pull out his guitar this week - having purchased her own guitar at a garage sale in Minnesota. And it's common enough that George is playing on a Saturday night - that Wendy's Saturday night tub memories are filled with the sound of his acoustic strumming. She leaves the door open so that she can hear him sing and play while she cleans up. It's a part of her.
The little boys, already shined up, are sitting on the kitchen table in their freshly clean pajama bottoms and matching oversized white t-shirts. They are coloring in their new coloring books - bought that very morning for a quarter from the garage sale around the corner.
Allan comes down to join them - coloring is such a relaxing pastime, but instead of using the crayons from the bucket on the table, he's pulling sharp point Crayolas from his pocket. He sees that I catch this action and he explains to me, 'hey - so I have a secret stash because I like my points sharp' You don't have to explain to me - So do I, so do I....
Pa's in his Lazy Boy, shutting his eyes for a moment, absorbing in his own way and wondering how many seconds before the boys tackle him. Again. Pa doesn't get much peace on the weekends. I look over and notice that the knee on his jeans has several layers. The dirty one from all the landscaping he did earlier, and a fresh wet one from the boys evening tubs.
And me, I quietly smile, and match my ironing pace to the beat of the guitar - enjoying the task and the moment, a busy time in our lives that will too soon pass.
It was actually pretty normal, for a Saturday night around here - but perhaps the very normalcy of it is what attracts me. It reminds me of my own childhood Saturday night routine.
******
I decided to try something new. I brought our over the door ironing board downstairs and laid it precariously on top of my sewing machine (we only have one door on our lower level - and it belongs to the bathroom) and did my ironing while Saturday night played out around me.
Uncle George was behind me on the couch, singing and playing some Waylon Jennings on the guitar.
Wendy was up in the shower. Her Saturday night scrubbing. She was the most anxious for George to pull out his guitar this week - having purchased her own guitar at a garage sale in Minnesota. And it's common enough that George is playing on a Saturday night - that Wendy's Saturday night tub memories are filled with the sound of his acoustic strumming. She leaves the door open so that she can hear him sing and play while she cleans up. It's a part of her.
The little boys, already shined up, are sitting on the kitchen table in their freshly clean pajama bottoms and matching oversized white t-shirts. They are coloring in their new coloring books - bought that very morning for a quarter from the garage sale around the corner.
Allan comes down to join them - coloring is such a relaxing pastime, but instead of using the crayons from the bucket on the table, he's pulling sharp point Crayolas from his pocket. He sees that I catch this action and he explains to me, 'hey - so I have a secret stash because I like my points sharp' You don't have to explain to me - So do I, so do I....
Pa's in his Lazy Boy, shutting his eyes for a moment, absorbing in his own way and wondering how many seconds before the boys tackle him. Again. Pa doesn't get much peace on the weekends. I look over and notice that the knee on his jeans has several layers. The dirty one from all the landscaping he did earlier, and a fresh wet one from the boys evening tubs.
And me, I quietly smile, and match my ironing pace to the beat of the guitar - enjoying the task and the moment, a busy time in our lives that will too soon pass.
I enjoyed this so much. It reminds me of a little house on the prairie story. I miss my kids big time now.
Posted by: callie | August 30, 2009 at 10:47 AM
I love it.
Posted by: Brita | August 30, 2009 at 11:26 AM
busy, yet so peaceful in the way you described your surroundings. that's talent.
Posted by: tania | August 30, 2009 at 11:53 AM
Beautifuly written - I love that you have such awareness and appreciation for what really matters in life.
Posted by: Linda J | August 30, 2009 at 12:40 PM
Sharon, you have a great way with words!
There's that saying "oh, normal day . . ."
Posted by: Jennifer Sk | August 30, 2009 at 01:06 PM
wow...
Posted by: Katrina | August 30, 2009 at 07:42 PM
So well written...I felt like I could almost hear the guitar. Have you ever thought about writing?
On another note--do you edit your pic's, and if so, using what software? Also, do you try to scrap all pic's, or do you scrap only your fav's? How do you store those you don't scrap? Have you found one place you like ordering from best?
Posted by: Kris | August 30, 2009 at 09:33 PM
You make it feel like we're there, how peaceful. What nice memories to have.
Posted by: Beatle | August 31, 2009 at 12:19 PM
Just had to pipe in here...I'm a MN gal who stops in from time to time. Your posts are always enjoyable to read, but this one is absolutely beautiful.
Whenever I DO stop in here, I wonder why we never met--especially since we have a Heli connection, too(she mentioned you on my visits there, & I wondered about you {and now I am hoping that my memory is correct and we really haven't met. heh}). I'm glad I've met your blog, tho, it makes me smile/hymyilla:!
Posted by: jen t | August 31, 2009 at 06:01 PM