A Fragile Peace


A memory…

I sit on the deck in the morning sun enjoying my coffee in a fragile white Wedgwood cup I have rescued from the back of a cupboard filled with plastic sippy cups. Around me the yard is cluttered with bikes, balls, a blow up pool and a forest of garden weeds I have yet to tackle. But here I sit in the quiet, reading a book and enjoying my coffee in a china cup. Soon my small boys will wake up and begin the daily wrestling matches,

“He touched me!”

“Well, he broke my legos!”

“So, he started it!”

But for this moment it is calm and I have time to read and to think. I think of my neighbor and friend who will try to sneak out across the yards before her children are up to join me for a cup of coffee. I think about how her 3 year old will probably sneak over after her and climb up in my lap to sing me her latest favorite song.

Uh-oh I hear feet running down the stairs inside. The door to the deck flies open.

“Mom, can I have lemonade for breakfast?”

Someone is crying next door. The day begins! I pour another cup of coffee into my fancy china cup. Maybe I’ll have a slice of leftover cookie cake with it.


2 responses »

  1. Trista, I remember those early morning stolen moments (not too many!) when you & Abe were little. They were like a breath of fresh air amidst all the chaos.

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