almost six

 I need a moment to write on this overcast, July morning.  Blues and grays streak the sky like something I wish I could inhale, bottle, frame and mount above my bed.  It's that lovely.  The north hills still show hints of green, recall yesterday's lightning storm, keep the air light.  In a few hours I'll arrive at the park with my bushels full of party supplies, like I've done so many other July days.  My girl will be six on Tuesday.  We celebrate her today while her daddy is still in town, while the hills still shine barely green.  Ani's, "Swan Dive" is on my Pandora and I'm filled with memories and longing thinking about how this birthday party thing has, somehow, become old hat.  How we know this drill because, somehow, she is six.  She is six and she exudes kindness, sensitivity, an amazing ear for language and music and the wacky sense of humor that comes with almost-first-grade. She's been in drama camp from nine to four every day this week and walks out a little taller, a little stronger, and a little more one with the world every single day.  Tremendous, this girl.  Tremendous.