30 May 2011

I'm going to...

The sun is warming our tiny sliver of the earth, finally, and we are out the door as soon as the breakfast dishes reach the sink. All that spring energy, on edge, has been waiting, waiting, waiting for a weekend like this last one. A weekend that lets us go to it. From building a table, to a t-ball game, to hours in the garden, to smelt fishing, we went, went, went.

And all the while, T was saying things like, "When I grow up, I'm going to be a furniture builder. Not a carpenter who builds houses or large buildings, but a carpenter who builds tables and chairs and dressers and desks and bookshelves."
"This is the best Saturday I have ever had! I mean, can you believe that we got to do t-ball for so much of the morning? And then I'm climbing trees, playing fetch with Tess, practicing more t-ball... I'm going to try to keep having this much fun as I grow up."
"So if you want to help sort the fish, Mama, the smelt are these ones, and the herring are the ones with larger eyes and a blue stripe on the back. Watch out for the crabs, but they go in the bucket over there. And then look at your hands - see all the shiny scales stuck to you? I'm going to do this every time we can."

Our hands sticky, legs tired from the weekend, eyelids drooping, stomachs gurgling, I fry up a couple smelt. It's well past bedtime, and there's school tomorrow. But we eat the tender fish with a bit of sand grit that I forgot to rinse off. The sun is red, near fully set over the large island across the Sound. And I think, I'm going to do this - this life - every time I can.

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