My friend Jamie has been fighting cancer for a long time - bravely, sweetly, and with patience and fortitude. This morning she heard from her doctor -not good news. Please keep her in your thoughts tonight.
Today we passed up the Great Canadian Lumberjack Show and Challenge (although I'm dying to know what Obstacle Pole Bucking is - sounds like something you'd do on a bad date to me) and instead took the kids to Cass's school and let him show us the playground. He was puffed up with the importance of it, leading us around, clowning on the monkey bars, showing R how to pump her legs on the swing.
I walked over to where B was sitting and ran an arm around his shoulders. "Changed much from your day?"
He shook his head. "I used to play there, on the teeter-totter. And the rocket." He was quiet with his memories for a minute, then jumped to his feet.
"Enough of that. Let's go find Papa."
So we went to supper with Papa and had a good time - Rosey singing "Old MacDonald Had a Farm - Eeeeee-Ohhhhh" and quacking no matter what animal we listed (and giggling because she was making her Papa laugh) and Cass mixing up knock-knock jokes and telling us all about school.
And I thought: I may never get to see my kids run across the playground where I went to school, but this was something that really contents B, that really makes sense to him.
And I love the continuance of it.
And today? It was good, and right, and satisfying.
Just like a Sunday should be.