memorial weekend glory

There is so much to say and so little to say.  There is so much to say about the green that continues to unfold, the way the larkspur and daisies dance as the balsamroot slowly being to lower their heads.  So much to say after a full three days at home, all four of us, just moving through space together.  We've tackled lurking house projects, hiked the trails behind the house, painted pictures, written poems.  Maybe that's a concrete place to start.  The poem in Spanish that Elie wrote today titled, "Mis Padres."  She uses similes to compare me to a flower and Jeff to the clouds.  In the end, she thanks us for walking "a lado de mi."  I asked her to explain what she meant and she said, "You know, mom.  You walk beside me.  Like you take care of me."  I'm way into a lado de.  I really love walking beside that little girl. 

I also love walking beside her brother.  Her brother who explodes like the apple blossoms, explodes like big lips and snuggly love.  Her brother who explodes like a wild fire, scary and surprising, with moments of uncontrollable frustration and rage.  It's sometimes hard to watch how quickly Elie submits to him as to avoid a conflict.  As an all-out conflict avoider, I would have done anything as a kiddo to spare those around me anger.  I see her do the same thing.  Today at sushi lunch, when the waitress asked if we were still hungry Eliana said, "Actually yes.  May I have another order of unagi."  Jeff and I smiled across the table at our sushi loving, bank-breaking child.  When the order came, Eliana gave me one and she took the other for herself.  I offered Soli a half eaten piece of mine (in and of itself, quite a sacrifice).  He was about to go to the dark side about not getting his own, about to submit to cries and annoying whines about wanting a "whole" piece when Eliana immediately gave him hers, untouched, and took the half eaten piece.  Anything to avoid a conflict.  Especially when her parents are paying close attention.

That said, there are some sneaky things that send him flailing and wailing that come from sweet sissy.  She knows how to play the innocent and he knows how to go balls to the wall.  We seem to have wonky family hiking karma right now.  Like the minute we leave the house, one of them decides to get uber into it and the other decides to be a total asshole.  Then the minute one turns around, the other flip-flops to the other side.  It's super odd.  I'm trying to push family hikes, especially Sunday hikes, as our families sort of weekly, sacred tradition.  I try to push gratitude in the great outdoors and just sort of expect everyone to be as enthusiastic and on-board as I am.  The sojourns always end well, but the bipolar attitudes can be a bit cause a bit of a metaphorical stumble.   

I mean, how can you not just shout hallelujah across these hills right now.  Petals and fluff and rain kisses drift sweetly across the wild clouds, the piecing blue and slate gray and billowing white that is spring in Montana.  I'm developing yet another relationship to this place as I continue to get to know my new neighborhood.  It's so quiet up here, so close to the earth, such a refuge from my busy work life.  My neighbors are kind and funny and the kids zip around with an unstructured abandon.  My gratitude cup is overflowing around these parts. 

I'm filled with thanks for Jeff's parents for helping us exist in such a tremendous physical place.  It's a special day to remember Morty, the planes that flew over Germany, how handsome he was in his uniform.  Jeff and the kids took him to Fort Missoula today and he sang along to the, "Star Spangled Banner."   I regret not being there to see that.  I'm so proud of my husband and the way he takes care of us all, so proud of my kids for having such a great attitude about spending time with their PopPop.  I feel like every day we all continue to grow together.  Who we are when we were young and where we came from, who we were before we had our own children, who we were when they were tiny babies, who we are now and every moment in between.  It's this pulsing, charged, glowing ball of energy and history and light.  Of gratitude and fear and frustration and surprise.  It's another spring, another cycle of renewal and rebirth, yet another chance to emerge into our finest selves.