On last firsts

Her eyes were so wide and she stared off because she still couldn't believe her tooth came out. Just before bedtime, she was racing Shane upstairs and telling him she would brush her teeth herself. Shane told me then she stopped talking and fished in her mouth because the tooth had come out on its own.

This makes me laugh because just two days ago she sat in my arms during Lanie's segment of rehearsal and cried because she thought her tooth was going to come out NOW and it would HURT.

Thankful it happened when she didn't expect it, and it didn't hurt her at all.

We didn't think she'd get to sleep last night because she was so excited.

And, fortunately, the tooth fairy didn't forget to slip a dollar under her pillow (or to make Shane's lunch).

On Betsy and Tacy and loose teeth

Erin and I are reading through the Betsy-Tacy series. The first book starts off about two neighbor girls, five years old, named Betsy and Tacy. It's our special time together to sit and cuddle, and she jumps so eagerly into the storyline. Today, reading of two nickels, and the story girls thinking five plus five equaled nine. I read on to the next line, and Erin says, "Five plus five isn't nine, Mom! It's ten!"

She stops me from reading for a second to show me her wiggly tooth. Shows me how it bends forwards and backwards, and I think of last firsts. The last first tooth to lose.

"Come with me," I say. "Let me take a picture of your smile with all your baby teeth. That one is going to come out soon, and I want one more picture of you with your baby teeth."

She didn't want to wiggle it for the picture, and I'm ok with that. Not a fan of wiggly teeth in general.

One thousand gifts and still counting (4320-4360)

for her window sills wide enough to hold a little boy stretched out on a rainy day
sheets of rain
shoes on feet
a basement retreat during tornado warnings
texts with a sister

and her prayers
hoo-ting and ruckus from owls and frogs after the storm
and no rain
a sunny next day
bunny sightings

and a snake sighting
color samples like splendor, harmony, and even cotswold
white on the trim in the laundry room
Viviana every week
a closeness for Erin

cupcakes to celebrate half birthdays
a yellow bird perched on a nearby chair
Lindsay chats
and Cinderella
a fox trotting through the field

lightning bugs outside the window
a farmer friend, his hands that held and hugged, his quick smile, and his trademark wave
for treasure in darkness
my parents' former neighbor who counts the years too (25)
a snake in the pump house

sunshine for yard work
clean windows
ice cream sneaks with Erin
errand runs with Lanie
a car on loan while mine is in the shop

pictures in a slideshow of fathers and daughters
lamb on the grill
the scent of ground coffee
birthday cake (strawberry cream torte for Lori's 51st)
lunch on the patio

the hard talk across the kitchen island
the hard business of keeping past past
the hard choice to reconcile
the hard work of sifting trust and truth
things that end well

The snake at the pump house, and here

My dad, sister, and Linda are coming over tomorrow for lunch. I am marinating lamb to grill for gyros. As much fun as it is to plan a menu, I equally enjoy prepping the house and yard for friends and family: sunshine hours of grass mowing, trimming back rhododendrons, pruning branches of awning trees, sweeping off patios and walkways, cleaning the windows, planting mint in a planter, pulling out cushions for patio chairs.

Shane had his share of things to do. He was down at the pump house doing something and he called out to me when he saw me, "There was a snake right next to my head."

He hates snakes and big spiders. I'm not very fond of them either.

"Where is it?" I asked and made my way down to him. "Was it a black snake?"

"Yes, but not as big as I've seen them."

We went into the pump house, but the snake had moved on.

"If this had happened at the other house, I wouldn't have gone back in until I had something to kill it," he laughed. And then, "This place has changed me."

His words may have been matter-of-fact, but the implications were not lost on me. I smiled and thought of all of us, and the changes, and to myself I know: it was supposed to, this place--it was supposed to change us.

My next project is redoing the laundry room. I've already started painting the doors and trim ... white. And while we wait on tripping over to the second-hand cabinet store, I'm going to try my hand at sanding down the powder room vanity and staining it something rich and nutty.