Afterglow

Easter lasted five days for us, five days of dearly beloved coming and going, staying and playing, laughing, talking, and doing all those interesting holiday things. Besides the kids and their friends, my parents were here for three days. What a pleasure to pamper them, feed them, get them moving. And the pinochle was AWESOME!

My paper journal writings are a dozen pages longer this morning so my head is blissfully floaty right now, relieved of the annoyance of jammed thoughts and noisy words jostling for position. Only afterglowing ponderings of the last five days swirl amiably amidst the gray matter.

I read this in a book today: Quality is a passion, even a compulsion.

It sums up Tom, the kids, and my perspective of life.

Not that we always achieve quality but we do love it so.

(Right, Sam?)

At three o'clock Sunday morning I couldn't sleep. Excited about Easter Sunday, you see. I flipped open my non-recipe book hoping to read myself sleepy. Instead, I found amongst its pages a random recipe for French Baguettes.

"These look ridiculously easy. Really easy," I whispered aloud to myself there in the guest bed. (My parents were snoring peacefully in the master bedroom, Tom buzzed on the futon.)

I finished reading the chapter only to turn back to the recipe.

"Still not sleepy. I could make these right now and serve them with dinner instead of cornbread. It'd leave the oven open for roasting the vegetables. Fresh, yeasty bread. Good idea. Am I really that awake? Yes. Yes, I am."

So I did it. I made baguettes in the dark of Sunday morning. While the dough rose I sat myself down in the leather rocker and read the resurrection accounts in my Bible. And I cried. And I prayed. And I punched down the dough and formed baguettes. And they rose with the sun which was shrouded in rain clouds but dawn's light arrived just the same. It came and brightened my living room. And my kitchen. And my heart.

Cassie groggily wandered to where I sat meditating. "What are you making, Mama? It smells yeasty. Or are you cooking with wine again?"

"Follow your nose, Cassie. I think you'll be pleased."

She was.

I smiled.

And I wasn't tired all Easter day - but slept well that night.

For a myriad of reasons.