On Writing: Musings from the Meadow

Last week we sat together for the first time since February 4th. Never has a porch felt more enticing. The worn, welcoming chairs beckoned us to come and sit. Inviting conversation and the companionship we have all been desperate for in the past few months. The view of the lush meadow sprawling vibrantly before us gave us a sense of freedom that was intoxicating. We were all buzzing with the anticipation of a weekend of adventure.

This visit to Sippi’s house was the first “in-person” social interaction I’ve had in months. Our trip up was my first time being in a car since early March. I’ve actually joked that I may not remember how to drive when this is all over. At the time of our arrival, the boys and I had not ventured further than our neighborhood block in almost 70 days.

From the moment we stepped out of the car, we were determined to embrace every drop of magic.

We drank in the smells of the ripe spring air, thick with honeysuckle and freshly cut grass. We lingered outside long after our arrival, hesitant to lose the last stretches of daylight. Dreading the return to confinement of walled-off spaces once more.

The boys roamed through the meadow, barefoot and wild. Their childish whims stretching before them like the last rays of the sun. Shrieks of laughter pierced the tranquil evening air, reminding us all that joy prevails even as darkness falls.

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Dusk settled over the meadow, as though night was a summer blanket slowly and gently tugged toward our chins. Lightening bugs speckled our view like stars dipping low to kiss the earth.

As I took the boys inside to put them to bed, their pajamas smelled faintly of fresh grass and sweet freedom. Two tired faces gazed up at me, determined to defeat the sleep that tugged at their eyelids. I tucked them in tight with promises of the day ahead, kisses, and a prayer of gratitude – for their health, happiness, and for the opportunity to be their Mama.

Back outside, the fire crackled and spit embers into the air that danced and swirled about with delight until their flame simply ceased. We watch the ensemble, entranced. Conversation dripping lazily from our lips, sweet nothings of importance.

The days worn heavy on each of our shoulders. Dogs sprawled at our feet, bellies reflecting the moon, tongues lagging. The night air infused with hope and happiness once more.

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I wrote this piece a couple of weeks ago and decided to share here tonight. Back in February, I wrote a post about starting a mini-series on writing. I mentioned that I had been taking various writing courses through the Exhale creativity community. This community continues to inspire me to create. When I started writing this piece, I felt so desperate to write something that would help me harness how refueling this trip was for us. I wanted to be able to revisit it any time. This is some of what I captured, in word and on camera.

Thanks for being here with me.

Yours truly,

Eliza B.