mother’s day snaps
Having four children living in two cities means that it’s rare to find them assembled as a group. Just when I think I have each peg nailed down, one pops up and goes astray. So having three out of four at home this weekend was near perfection for me. Number One was our missing peg, but she called from British Columbia, her voice tumbling brightly across the line. The boys and I had brunch together and Number Three joined us for dinner. There’s something very reassuring about having my chickadees close by, fighting for space at the table, their ample chatter filling the room or echoing from down the hall.
Those days of waking shortly after dawn to crayoned cards and breakfast in bed (tippy cereal and toast oozing with jam) are long gone. They’ve been replaced by sleeping late, cards in the mail and really good brunch. Seeing my boys’ faces light up as french toast hit the table this morning was all the gratification I needed, even having made it myself. We walked in the late afternoon sunshine to our favourite waterfront café in search of coffee, juice and treats. Number Four waded through the pond, a hint of summer afternoons to come. Our neighbourhood is ablaze with electric yellow forsythia and the softest blush of cotton candy pink magnolias. Blooms that lay the anxiety of a never-ending winter to rest. Lately I’ve collected the shells of robin’s eggs scattered here and there, their perfect blue glinting amidst grass and shrub. One shell balanced impossibly on a sewer grate was the first to come home with me. There never seems to be a nest within sight of these shells, so it seems miraculous that they should sustain so little damage in their fall.
It’s been a day full of comfort. A day where I felt right in my bones and certain of a love that remains steadfast and settles my soul when so much of life is in flux right now. I hope you managed to catch glimpses of the extraordinary in so many ordinary moments this weekend. X