Ecstasy on Sunday

Every weekend we try to remember to visit a park. And every time we do, it's the best time we've had since the last time we went to the park. Yesterday afternoon we went to the large park near our neighborhood. It's by the lake and has trails, playgrounds and wetlands. At one point after we had walked for half an hour, I picked Harrison up and he asked me to run so Robin could chase after us with Gigi in her stroller. The race ensued.

As we ran, Harrison shrieked with glee, throwing his head back. He screamed as if he couldn't believe this was happening. He laughed so hard every one of his teeth gleamed. He was so ecstatic I thought his soul might shoot out of his body. It was an amazing, beautiful moment.

Robin and Gigi caught up with us and we were in hysterics. The rest of our time at the park was spent on the playground where Harrison jumped off every platform and Gigi went down every slide. But that moment of ecstasy was so profound, I wanted it imprinted in my mind forever. I thought of it over and over until I fell asleep that night.

Running out of clutter

Whew. Vacation is done. Holidays are over. Gigi's birthday is past. Being a one-year-old means no more formula and facing forward in the car. Both surprisingly liberating things. Josephine is cremated (still need to pick up the ashes and complete the "circle of life"). The snow has melted. We're alone in the house.

I must say it is what I dreamed it would be. Quiet. Peaceful. Happy. I found myself tiptoeing around the other day for fear of waking the fates to deliver yet another obligation. You get so used to being "on" all the time, that you forget how to sit. It would almost be uncomfortable if your legs didn't feel such instant relief.

I didn't have a New Year's resolution (I never do), but I purged the house as if we were moving. Just about every closet, cabinet and drawer was cleaned out. It felt great. I even left a couple drawers totally empty so I could think of them when I felt overwhelmed. Maybe I could throw my thoughts in them during moments of insanity. Now that the clutter is gone (maybe I could find more), I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do. I'll have to start (gasp) playing with my child since I won't be so busy making endless Goodwill piles.

But for right now, this minute, I'm just going to enjoy the quiet. That and a table with nothing on it.