Glimpse of the Future

Sometimes I just wish I knew a little more about 

the 

possibilities.

the Future.

What heart-wrenching decisions would have been just a "done-deal" had I known 

the delightful end from the painful beginning? 

What heaviness would I have avoided if, 

 in that moment of choosing, 

I knew how that choice would effect 

me. 

 my family. 

 my friends.

my future.

Tonight, the Flowers from My Father included a strangely silent house.

A gift from the future.

Our bustling home is usually filled with 

(at least) 9 busy lives 

living out LOUD

and sometimes, LOUDER.

As a young(er) momma, I took to heart the wistful eyes and wry smiles of mature women who said they missed having it. They missed listening to unending stories, and making peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and kissing boo-boo's, and laughing at knock-knock jokes (again), and folding tiny white onsies and squinching up their eyes as the piano practice repeated the same wrong phrase and burying their nose in stinky boy-necks after the Wild Thang fell asleep across the footstool.

That's when I decided.

I would not regret moments gone.

I would embrace the days, the hours and attempt to embrace the moments.

I would know when they left, that I had been There. Really been There. 

and for the most part, I have.

The very still house I'm in tonight is different than the 12midnight house that I revel in. At midnight, there is a delightful quiet that still moves, and breathes, and occasionally snores or snorts. The hush tonight is 

the constant thrum of a refrigerator, 

and an air conditioner, 

the singing of crickets from the back yard. 

The nearly-empty house sounds.

Predictably, if all goes as planned,

my future.

It pleases me tonight because I know it won't last. 

 It won't be long until the young legs are cranking down the hall (slow down, tiger!) and the cheerios are poured (It's okay. Let Lucy...our dog... get those) and the couch lets out its mighty groan (this living room is NOT a gymnasium!) and someone is looking for car keys (check Anne's room) and laundry is running

and life is busy, 

schedules are crazy, 

and 

the family is amazing.

A glimpse of the future can sometimes make the present very sweet.

When we're old, I'll bake fresh bread, and you bring some blackberry jelly, 

and we'll do tea.

Jelly bread may be my one weakness.