Gonna Sit Back, Right Easy, and Laugh

I only wrote that title so that I could stump my brother Cliff for a few seconds, trying to figure out where he heard the line. . .

I should have titled it "Life is Sweet" because that's how I've been feeling lately.  A person might look at my life these days and wonder how the hell I can say such a thing. I'm putting in at least 50 hours a week at work - - - waking in the wee hours to accomplish stuff - - - and still maintaining the house, taking care of the kids, and cooking.

For some reason though, now that I seem to have discarded the emotional baggage that I've been carrying around, I can move more swiftly through things.  Granted, this is only how this week has been going - - - I might lift a garbage bag full of stuff back onto my shoulders tomorrow.  Yet, those pockets of, um, what's the word?:   "Aaaaahhhhh. . . " are clear - - - a 20/20 focus - - - and evident these days.

I wonder if it's because since the New Year began, I've been waking in the morning to the most beautiful sunrises, and lifting my camera and focusing it on the same horizon - - - a gorgeous poplar tree that stands tall against the clear, cloudy, pink, gray or purple sky - - - and snapping a picture.  I scroll through the pictures sometimes, and I am always amazed about how the tree stays the same against the changing skies, and though each sky is different, it's always gorgeous.  Not pretty.  Not okay.  But gorgeous.  Different but the same.

Everyday, because of that one snapshot I take, I am reminded on some level of the majestic underworkings of this world, and it humbles me.  I am aware that nothing is within my control.  I am reminded that brilliance and pain, prey and predator, deer and bumper, consistency and upheaval - - - all those seemingly opposite existences are dynamic pieces of a grand whole. . . just like the sky.

The kids and I planned our Sunday together.  They had Church school, I had church - - - just like every Sunday.  I was going to put on a pot of sauce, we'd smell it all day with our stomachs rolling in longing, and we'd relax before another busy week - - - doing what we each, individually, love:  Me, writing and reading; Paige, writing and reading; Tony, reading and video games.  (In fact, as I write this, music is playing in my ears, Paige is at my other computer typing up a story:  Two Suns Unite, and Tony is bouncing in front of the Wii, playing Mario Galaxy).  Yet, when we walked in from church, we all positioned ourselves at the kitchen island.

"Let's make sauce today, thinking of Papa."  Paige said, and Tony heartily agreed. 

"Okay, but if we're going to do that, we need music."  I answered.

"Frank Sinatra!"  They both yelled. 

As I chopped onions, Frank sang "My Way" and when Paige asked me if the onions were making me cry, I answered honestly:  "Nope.  I miss my dad."  She was elbows deep into mixing meatballs or else she would have hugged me.  I winked at her, and said, "I sure hope "New York, New York" is next up.

And guess what?

It was.  We sang that song, and moved like dancers in the kitchen.  Tony opened the cans of sauces, poured the olive oil into the pot, I browned the pork, added the spices, sniffed the onions and garlic sauteeing, revamped a few of the meatballs - - - some looked like footballs, others like marbles - - - and sang.

Now, the sauce is simmering on the stove. . . like every other Sunday - - - the same, you see, but different - - - and our stomachs are rolling in longing, like every other Sunday.

I am wise enough now to know that there are only a few Sundays similar to this one available in my life - - - come on, I cooked with my kids! - - - and that this is one of those pockets I need to memorize; one of those snapshots I need to take and memorize.

And the fact that I am crying as I write this makes it clear to me that life is sweet.  And precious. And fragile.  And dynamic.  And short.  So very short.

I think I need to try one of those meatballs now. . .

[Cliff, the line came from Tenth Avenue Freeze-Out, in case you're still stumped].