We saw the sun rising yesterday morning!
Not that we don’t usually get up early, but we’re not yet abroad to witness the spectacle gently emerge from behind a bank of trees.
Our house faces west and in the mornings we see the sun cast its shadow on our bedroom wall, starting low and gradually creeping up the golden icon of St. Stephen, brushing idly past the marble crucifix and resting upon the photograph of Hubs and me squatting next to a toddler Ian in the garden smiling at a camera.
In those pre-selfie days we all look so young!
This particular Sunday we had a parish meeting to attend during our normal service time.
We broke routine to make a choice about whether to get up early and go to the mass before 9am or get up at our usual time and stay for the mass afterwards.
We chose the former, hence the beholding of the sunrise.
During post communion coffee I commented to the table of habitual 745am-ers,
“When we had children we always went to the early mass and thanked them for getting up, dressed and in the car by 730am.” I looked up at Hubs and asked,
“How did we do it?” Everyone laughed.
“We used to have to drag our children out of the house kicking and screaming…” remembered one father.
“Now they don’t go at all,” said a Mum.
“Don’t worry, they’ll come back,” said another.
“Yes, when they have their own children…”
“And the cycle will start all over again!” We all nodded sagely and headed back to church to listen to reports and vote in four new vestry members.
At home with an extra hour on my hands and energized by breakfast and coffee I strode out into the sun, linked arms with the breeze and gathered the piles of dead wood I’d been clearing from the woods into a couple of large piles for hauling to the pit to burn.
Hubs came to help and suggested we light two fires in situ to save our backs from the uphill trudge.
A couple of bonfires would be good I smiled.
Of course they had to be watched closely so I dragged a chair from the pavilion and settled down to read a book under a cloak of swirling smoke.
Three hours later the fires were smoldering harmlessly and my book was getting good.
I sighed and wrapped the smell of woodsmoke and sun warmed skin around me and left to go inside leaving the chill in the air to play in the embers.
My body ached from all the bending and dragging I’d done while tending my fires and my mind lingered with the women who had come alive on the pages of my book this sleepy Sunday afternoon.
Well hello there! My name is Vivienne McNeny.
I am an empty nester exploring life as a Boomer…you could say I'm happily Boomering along!
As a homeschooling Mum I have finally quit the job of role model and mentor to my four children. I do what I want to do, eat when I feel like it, enjoy life with my blue eyed cowboy and clean my house once a month or so whether it needs it or not!
In true English form I write about the emergence of my true identity now that I can no longer hide behind my children as their Mum.
No comments so far!
Leave a Comment