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I drive to pick her up from school — he’s relaxing in the backseat with his Elmo and the windows are down and the sunroof open. The wind blows through the car and the music blows through my soul and it threatens to overtake me — a burning desire to not do.

We pick up a chocolate milkshake. Whipped cream? Yes, please! and they share it with two straws. She makes big googly eyes at him when they take sips at the same time and their laughter is contagious…bubbling up from my feet all the way to my eyes.

We drive home with the windows down and the sunroof open. And the wind blows through the car and their laughter and the music blow through my soul and again, threaten to overtake me — a burning desire to be.

I drive into our neighborhood and pass our house (much to their delight) and head to the meadow. Dinner needs to be prepared and cleaning done and packing lists made and homework checked off and blogs post written, but I just can’t do it.

Not yet.

We step out of the car and I exhale long and deep.

They hold hands as they cross the stream.

The butterfly flits in a circle around me.

The sun warms me from the outside in.

Someone is cutting the grass.

Their laughter echoes across the field.

There are Ferris Bueller clouds in the sky.

There’s nothing better than the smell of fresh-cut grass.

A leaf falls.

That was a big grasshopper.

He runs over yelling “Mama!” and falls into me.

She borrows my sunglasses and they copy my posture. 

In the Green Pastures I find Still Waters.

I laid on my back and closed my eyes and felt the sun on my face.

And I was.