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(Talented Rush Blue, sweeping the tournament in Bend, Oregon...coming away once again, with a first place medal!)
Road tripped to Bend, just me and my soccer lovin' girl. Sipped soda and sucked the salt off sunflower seeds til' our swollen tongues felt numb against our notably raw cheeks. We shoulder shook and head bobbed to Jack Johnson, and before we knew it our wheels rolled into town.
We were immediately greeted by Mt. Bachelor and Jefferson, two snow capped peaks sitting above the city, welcoming us to picturesque Bend. Who knew? I certainly did not. I had no idea my weekend away with my girl would be spent in a place I can only describe as McCall on steroids.
We stayed in a little resort tucked back in the woods and nestled down by the river, a river who quickly became my friend as I woke early and joined her for a run along her curvy figure over and around dirt trails sprinkled with wild flowers and bulging river rock.
Most of the day Payton was busy with her team, this left time for me to just be. I took my book down to the pool and layed in quiet, uninterrupted, bliss almost giddy about the situation, me basking in sunshine with no kids, job, house to clean, or meals to cook. When I wasn't relishing in the serenity of aloneness I was joining the other parents for lunch, dinner, shopping, river floating, and site seeing, in a city that stole my heart and beckons me to return.
As extraordinary as being just "me" for the weekend was, without a baby on my hip, little ones at my feet, and a big, busy puzzle of daily chaos just a waitin' for my assembling,
the fabulousness was trumped by moments with HER.
Thank you, Miss Payton, for forgoing slumber with the rest of your team in a giant sea of silky, nylon bags accompanied by brightly colored pillow cases in the middle of the family room floor, to retire to my room, snuggle, chat, laugh and snooze... with me.
Thank you, Miss Payton, for running into my arms after each game and thanking me for being there and telling me how happy you were that I was.
Thank you, Miss Payton, for waiting in the middle of the river, paddling desperately to stay in place, screaming, "mom" and encouraging me to catch up so you could link your arm in mine and we could float the rest of the way, together.
I sure relished in my time "away" cheering my girl to victory in a city of grand beauty, building memories I'll not too soon forget, but quite honestly, Pay, it was the simple moments shared with YOU, that meant the most.
XOXOXO
MOM
Trips with our "Bronco Buddies" have become a tradition. We hit the big games together and scream, shout, and ROAR the Broncos to a victory. I don't know what it is about this time of year, this sport, this team, these friends, that brings us so much joy, but I must say.....THEY DO!
When growing up we would take a few family trips now and then. During the vacation my dad would refer to ALL of us as "fun seekers". Let's go "fun seekers", whose with me "fun seekers", what's next "fun seekers?" I always loved that chipper term and more so the man who delivered it. Among many of life's lessons my dad taught, ....Happiness can be found seeking fun with those you care about, is one of my favorites.
Guess what I'm trying to say is, thanks.
Thanks, "Bronco Buddies", for being some terrific, "fun seeking" friends!
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She has a wildly, invaluable imagination. She is Junie B. and Romona Q. all bundled up in ONE. She's sassy and quick witted, and the unrivaled teacher of patience and tolerance. She knows one volume and speed. She's a lover of pickles, p opsicles and everything purple. She dreams of being a jockey and rides her horse, Ginger (incognito as a rip-stick scooter) all hours of the day. She is my mini-me, I'm told, a hasty comfort to the sad and a greathearted gifter of love.
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A face tells a thousand words.
"Are ya kiddin', mom, really? The tradition is to MAKE a fun cake for our birthdays, and this sure isn't the rock n' roll, roller skate I chose and you promised to deliver!"
Well, mama tried, but let's be real, the cake decorating skills belong to Robert, and since he was too busy to assist, the skate was a flop and a sweet treat from Dairy Queen became the surrogate.
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Nevertheless, she made a wish.
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.....and something bout' her expression tells me she's inventive enough to know
the wish isn't contingent upon the cake.
And her hopes for one coming true,
are just the same.
For you, Miss Avery J, my spicy seven year old girl...
I'd walk to the moon.
xoxoxo
Mom
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A Memorial Day tradition mobilized when we moved to the area, close enough to visit the grave sight of Bob's dad, who lost his battle to cancer when Bob was just six years old. Payton was a wee babe then. I have a pic. of the three of us standing just as we are presently, smiling behind the head stone. It's kind of surreal to see us now, how much we've grown as a family, and I'm not just speaking of size and numbers.
Bob's been out of town a lot in the last few weeks. In the midst of feeling empty and sad without him, I'm reminded how FULL he makes our world and grateful for his LOVE and fervor in constructing a good life for us.
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I'm appreciative for this tradition he holds us to and what it teaches our children about remembering those who lived before, even those who fought and died for our freedom. It's favored by the kids, for sure, because afterwards we retire to the ranch where they take joy in Uncle Barry's horse rides.
....and I don't think there's any place on earth, my horse lovin' girl would rather be.
| It works out rather well for Bob and myself too, enjoying Aunt Phyllis's contagious, happy spirit, and devouring her delicious home made treats, like moist chocolate cupcakes smothered in buttery smooth, silky cocoa frosting.
....and I can't help but to wonder when I see Bob with his uncle, if his adoration for him stems a bit from the wonderment that Uncle Barry, being so close to his dad, is perhaps a little bit...
like he might have been.
Every time we pull out of town, and proceed to the open road, I turn and take a gander, one by one, of my sweet baby's faces. Sure makes me sad to think of leaving this life so young without my little crew, as Robert's dad did, but I know full well and have great faith in the "plan." I look out the window, not wanting Bob to see, and try to hide the moisture with my over sized shades, but my eyes take a swim as a picture of the back side of Danny's head stone rolls forward in my mind. Five children left behind, each with their name en graven perfectly in a formation of lineage on the course, gray stone. I take a moment, consider Bob and his siblings, and can't help but to think how proud their dad must be of each, and not for any other accomplishment more than that of....
the lives they've created with their families.
