Summer is far spent. I can hardly believe that August is nearly halfway over. We in southwest Arkansas have had our usual smorgasborg of weather. Horrible heat and humidity, tumultuous thunderstorms, and even calming cool winds have been on our plate this summer. Just when the grass near the outer edges of our yard, where the pavement and earth meet, began to turn brown, the heavens would send forth the sustaining drink it needed. We then watched it turn green with fatness. I fell asleep many a night with the cicadas and crickets singing me their song. I would lie and think about the nights, many moons ago, when I would stretch out on my parents’ bed on a summer’s night, under the big window in their room, and stare out at the full or half moon through the leaves of the tree that stood there. My Dad would be beside me, telling me about my Granddad, who died before my birth, or some other story from his youth. He would sing “I see the moon, the moon sees me, down through the leaves of the old oak tree. Please let the light that shines on me, shine on the one I love.” I can still hear his plain, but altogether pleasant voice in the pockets of my memory. A few tears would creep to the corners of my eyelids, spilling over and down my cheek. I made not a sound in the darkness, not wanting to disturb my husband’s sleep. I silently savored my memories that summer night, and each one since. But I haven’t done this all summer, though I intended to.
I didn’t realize that I had become so focused on my agenda until about six weeks ago. I thought that since I had been taking my children to the library, the park, and swimming, that I was enjoying them. But then, something happened – well, several somethings happened – that helped me see that true enjoyment requires one to be concentrating or thinking about the moment. I saw that I was thinking “How will we ever pay off my stupid dental bill?” when my daughter came to tell me about the latest book she was reading. I was planning a grocery list, and lamenting over the yet another bill, when my four year old wanted to have a conversation. I was becoming irate when my time at the computer (my one and only hobby) was interrupted with “I hurt my head!!!!” from my two year old, and at the same time my two older children needing a settlement to some minor dispute. I wasn’t enjoying any of these moments at all. I was too preoccupied with my own plans or concerns. (A nice word for worries.)
Then, one day, while busily doing my laundry and nodding “Uh-huh” to my four year old’s chatter, I stopped short.
What was she saying?
“Leslie, what did you just say?” I asked.
“I was just telling you about my favorite recipe.” She said.
I had caught a few words here and there, but I wasn’t listening. It sounded like she was giving me a recipe! (Her own version, of course.) I quickly grabbed my pen and notebook and asked her, while sitting on the floor and giving her my undivided attention, if she could please tell me again.
“Okay.” She said. The following is her words:
How to Make French Chip by Leslie BashamSpread the chips on the pan. Put it in the oven at 600 degrees for one hour. Put peas in a pan. Take the chips out of the oven and pour them into a bowl with the peas. Then add green beans. Add more chips, then chocolate syrup and sprinkles and pickles.How to Make Chocolate Chip CookiesGet $2 and two dimes from Daddy. Then go to the store and buy dough. Get dough rolled up in a pan. Add chocolate syrup and chocolate chips. Bake at 400 for six hours.How to Make French CookiesRoll out dough with a rolling pin, flat. Add chocolate and sprinkles. Bake at 400 for fourteen hours. Take a fork and dig in and poke holes all over it.
I have no idea where she learned to cook! 🙂 I do make my own cookie dough, but apparently she prefers store bought! She also seems fixated on chocolate syrup and sprinkles. Later, I remembered that we had been eating vanilla ice cream with – yep – chocolate syrup and sprinkles – for dessert that week.
I received a lot of enjoyment from listening to her narrative. When I think back on this conversation, I can’t help but chuckle at her ideas of cooking. I also worry a little that she’ll be trying to cook this way as a grown woman! 🙂 My laundry must be done, that’s for sure. So must the cooking and cleaning, and there is even a place for my one and only hobby, too! But I don’t want to forget that these moments of my life will never return. I must enjoy them –truly enjoy them.
I apologize to you, cyber- friends, for being away a lot recently. Internet problems and vacation have kept me away. But I expect to be away more in the coming months than I have been this summer. I intend to focus more on the blessings in my life, and on the people that matter most to me. You see, I almost missed a golden moment of time completely… and all because of laundry.
valeriewritenow.com 