I know it sounds a little whimsical, but I wished he was there, holding a tall, sunlit glass of lemonade, pausing long enough to just smile and allow me say, How thoughtful!"
On heated summer afternoons,
we’d drag out the enormous lawn mower
(at least, it always felt enormous to me)
and let it hum and chomp its way
through the wild, restless grass,
until the yard softened
into something serene…
a quiet place
where I could finally breathe.
A place where morning would arrive gently,
carrying the scent of happiness
in its very first breeze.
If you’ve never noticed
those early hours belong to no one.
They are meant for gathering yourself,
for stitching together fragments of peace,
for learning how to simply be.
No human echoes
only the soft, scattered songs
of wandering birds,
the delicate rustle of life unfolding,
even the small, unseen creatures
finding their joy in the ordinary.
And there a spider’s web,
finely woven with impossible patience,
catching light like a secret
reminding you how life, too,
can be intricate
and still beautifully simple
all at once.
Oh… how did I wander here?
All this,
just because I was missing my lemonade… huh..hmm..
The heat may have lingered,
the work may have wearied me,
but I held onto the quiet hope
that look of satisfaction
he would wear
after every long, tedious task.
Now it lives only as a soft memory
something I return to,
to refresh,
to rebuild,
to remember.... with or without the lemonade.
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