Prodigal mommy has returned.
The world has been righted on its axis.
The cat is talking to me again.
Six hours sleep.
It's 90F and I've just finished mowing the lawn. I needed to trim the gargantuan lavender on the side of the house, which is blooming like mad. I set the trimmings aside, bees chasing me the whole way.
After I finished mowing, the daughter and I sat and stripped leaves from the long stalks of lavender. We bundled the flowered stems together. It was soothing work, the volatile oils in the leaves perfuming the hot air around us. The bees buzzed lazily over our bundles, drunk with pollen and heat. We talked about school and girl things, and how the mean girls are developing more mean girlness. We talked about the daughter losing her temper with a girl she dislikes, and how it's better sometimes to take a deep breath and walk away from a person who is being difficult instead of engaging them in battle. We talked about how neither of us like to be the center of attention.
"I'd rather be the sideshow," the daughter announced.
I know she didn't mean it the way it sounds, so I couldn't laugh.
But I often feel like a sideshow. Or worse, a one-woman circus.
As we hung our bundles of lavender to dry, I looked over toward the artichoke. A large, lovely bud has emerged.
I planted the artichoke because the daughter and I are fond of them steamed with some garlic. I think that perhaps we will share it for lunch.
Go listen to some good music: "Breathe" from the album Tripped into Divine by Dexter Freebish.