Today it was freakishly warm, about seventy degrees when it has been in the thirties and forties. I took Adelay and my niece to the playground after school today and we weren't even wearing jackets! It was so amazing. My brain felt awake for the first time in months. As I was driving along with the windows down, my Sugar Cult CD from high school blaring, I got this rush of nostalgia so intense it made my chest ache a little. I saw myself in a cute little tank top, my stomach flat and tan, with my highlighted hair blowing in the wind as my friends and I drove along toward no particular destination. And this wasn't a bad thing, because this meant our destination could still be anywhere. The night air, rushing in through the open car window, tasted like possibility.
It still does, too. Now it's the possibility of watching Adelay play for the first time on the slides. She looked so big I couldn't believe it. Or helping her swim for the first time this coming weekend. It's the new baby coming at the end of summer, the grand finale, if you will, of the best time of year.
I read once that to maintain hope, an interest in the daily monotony of life, one must have someone to love and something to look forward to. Whatever parenthood might temporarily withhold from you, it certainly offers both of those things. More than adequate compensation, I have to say, for trips to Europe and late-night car rides.