Tonight was a night reminiscent of a scene on television from the shows I watched in my childhood. Always having chaos, anger, strife, and noise in my childhood home, I often imagined that normal families really were like the ones on “Leave it to Beaver” or “My Three Sons.” Being the first Friday of the school year, we celebrated with Chinese take out. The four of us sat around the kitchen table, each armed with chop sticks. My husband and I managed well, but the children preferred to impale their chunks of deep fried chicken with a single chop stick, using it as if it were a skewer and then proceeded to dip the meat into the starchy neon orange sweet and sour sauce while we talked about their experiences at school.
Then we baked chocolate chip cookies for dessert. (Notice I said baked not made. I admit it, we used pre-made refrigerated dough.)
Then I folded laundry while the children took their showers. As usual, my daughter maneuvered her way into the bathroom down stairs, which she prefers because the water pressure is better. After folding the laundry my husband and I sat in the living room and had a conversation about our work days, with the only interruption being the sounds of a happy little girl singing sweetly in the shower: “I will love you forever and ever, love you with all my heart; love you when we’re together; love you when we’re apart,” surprising me with the clarity in which she articulated her words and how strongly she sang the tune. She sang in the manner in which a child sings with all the confidence in the world, unaware and unconcerned with the off key notes or missed beats.
I stopped and took a mental snap shot of that moment. There was no television on. No radio on. No computer on. No telephones ringing. No arguing. No crying. Just simple conversation interrupted only by the song of a child. I was struck by the weightlessness and simplicity of that moment. The quietness of it softened and cushioned the air around me, brightening the light within me a bit.
This evening I’ve been granted a reprieve from the darkness and angst that stalks me. I am thankful for it. Thankful for the hard work that has gotten me to this point. Thankful for the love and patience I’ve received that enables my growth. But mostly thankful for the power inherent in the human capacity to forgive, or to at least try.
leighcannon 