Riding the Strands of Fireworks

A single fuse is lit. A gust of gun powder soars into the sky as one and pops into a sprinkling of sparkling, bright fireworks. It’s not a vision of the 4th of July. It’s the explosion of everyone’s spring activities. Post spring break. Well choreographed are the questions. “Where are you supposed to be tonight?” “Who should you send these pictures to?” “Is this a practice or a game?” “What day does your flight leave?” “Where is your uniform?” “Which baseball shoes are mine?” “Do you have a white shirt and black pants for me?” “What time do you need to be there?” “What you do you want to do for Mother’s Day?” “How many more days are left of school?” And it’s me asking that last question. 21.

Families who have kids in elementary school are riding on the same combustive fuselage.

After a few crazy splintered mornings, I try to get up early enough to have a cup of coffee alone. I play some calm music in the morning. Or, I sit down at the piano for 10 minutes, letting my right hand lead the melody while my left hand struggles for the harmonious chord. I need 6 beats to a measure for a song in 4/4 time – finding the chord always take me a couple extra beats.

Will and Liam have their own morning routines, usually looking something like this. Although Liam can’t play Minecraft every morning, he can read about it.

On this particular morning, Will put down his Ranger’s Apprentice series and read my “story spinner” – what Liam so aptly named my spiral-bound manuscript… gulp… of the Staying Strong stories I wrote some five years ago.  The breast cancer year.

As we leave for school, the rocks call Will and Liam’s names.  And I do not, do not, do not want to herd them into the van.  I want to let them sit there and read, and read, and read.

Yes, we are ready for summer.  When mornings can start with the bean bags being dragged to the fort by the boys.  With a book tucked under each of their arms.