Thursday, June 13, 2013

The Lake Last Night


Yesterday afternoon, I woke Rosalita up from her nap so we could meet my parents at the lake.  My mother made sandwiches and we brought a salad and the air outside was hot and perfect.  We glided along through the familiar watery roads and Ben suggested that we go see if some of our friends were on their houseboat.  As we were pulling into their tiny cove, we saw them in a canoe just off of their dock!  We  pulled in and everyone was so happy to see each other.  They gave us a tour of their amazing houseboat and we watched the bluegill swim up just below our feet.
After we said goodbye, we rode back through the water just as it was turning golden and the sunset was deepening into itself.  Rosalita slept on my mother's chest as the boat coasted into the setting sun.
  

Wednesday, June 12, 2013

The Sling Diaries, Vol. III: Joy


It is June and Rosalita is starting forest fires in my heart.  
Any shining, red-cheeked joy in my life points directly at her.  We spend darkened afternoons quietly watching the thunderstorms from the wide front door.  We press our noses to the glass and watch the rain.  I draw two hearts in the condensation on the glass pane (one for her, one for me).  I think of sticky sweet Farmville summers, collecting magnolias in the morning and hiding from thunderstorms in the afternoon.  At the height of each storm, Abuelita would pull us tightly to her sides as we hid under the large master bed, the wide planked wooden floors creaking softly (like singing whales) just beneath us. 
But the sun always comes back out.
At night we watch the slow trails of fireworks that the lightning bugs leave behind while we savor the golden joy of nectarines and white coconut popsicles.  The field of fireflies gives us such a spectacularly electric light show at dusk, even when the moon is glazed over with fog.
There is sweet red wine and indian pale ales and sparkler wands at night and life is so vividly hazy that I can feel myself remembering these exact moments as they happen, as if I had already lived them a hundred years earlier.

Then
we climb into bed
 and my perfect child puts her earth stained hand on my breast
and the three of us fall
asleep.

I am wearing a Pure Linen Sling in Organic Maple, c/o Sakura Bloom