Thursday, May 12, 2016

the honeysuckles of Sweet Gum House

For days, the heady aroma of honeysuckles in full bloom met us as we came out the door. Strong and fragrant, and seemingly invisible, for I hadn't detected any blossoms in our walks around the yard. Until one day as we were driving away from the house, I spotted those white and yellow flowers tangled up in some bushes.
Then began the fun. Of stopping on our walks to pick a few - always one or two for now, and one for later (for Hattie, anyway) - and of jumping out of the van to grab a honeysuckle before going inside. If we weren't so sensitive to flowers indoors, I'd have picked a large jug full to permeate the house as thoroughly as our yard was with the fragrance.

But the honeysuckle days seem to be drawing to a close. They've bloomed their little hearts our and filled our world with their presence and now we'll file in our memory banks picking the flowers and tasting their nectar. The taste and smell of May.

Someone told me once that you can't remember a smell. A smell can trigger a memory, of course, but you can't just think of... apple pie for instance, and smell it -- you know of course that it smells of sweet, cinnamony apples and freshly baked to perfection pie crust, but no matter how much you think of it (or how hungry you get in the process) you can't smell it.

A few weeks ago, on the eve of Elijah's birthday, I was eager to soak up my memories from his entrance to this world. To remember the voices, the sights, the exhaustion, and even the smells. I pulled out a bottle of lotion that a dear friend had rubbed on my feet during his labor. It was a lotion I liked, and was glad to have, but after it being associated with HARD labor, I was NOT keen on using it for quite awhile. In fact, the smell was almost repulsive in the early weeks following his birth. So I put it away, to just keeping it for looks mostly (an attractive bottle IS worth something). But on the night before his birthday, that lotion, I found, smelled good again.
And it felt full-circle.
This little boy asleep in his crib is so far removed from the newborn who was such a struggle to give birth to. He's jolly and boy-ish and often hungry and toothy grins and walking and Delightful.
Maybe it's beauty from ashes that keeps getting more and more inexplicably beautiful with every passing day.

I know I'm rambling, I know I don't really have a point I'm trying to make - I keep trying to find one - but this one is just the feels. My daddy says you can't think and feel. So tonight I'll feel, and save the thinking for later.

One more thing I'm feeling. JOYFUL.
Really, really.
My house is clean. My dishes and laundry are washed. My children are pleasant and fun to spend my days with. My husband is wonderful.
I hope to be so much more evermindful of God's bountiful, unending blessings.

PS - Today we played an extravagant game in which my name was Marie Calendar, and let me just say that Mary John and Callie were very valiant to fight Ana Ocho - the monster - and to brave the wiles of a harsh school marm, for their father, Mario, had died and their mother was unkind and they were sent to live with me - Marie. {This was the state of things ALL. AFTERNOON.} It was hilarious, and I love these little imaginations - and that they roll right along with the loops I throw into the story, too.

No comments:

Post a Comment