I thought it was going to be another one of those days– the kind of horror show like yesterday. Maya woke me up at a bright and early six am and refused to go back to sleep. I fumbled about my place, sleepy from a restless night, and stared into space until my coffee finished its geriatric descent into the carafe.
It wasn’t until just after seven that I realized the sun wasn’t glaring in through the windows. My heart fluttered with delight. Could it possibly be true? Were there… clouds? I rushed to the front door and bounced outside to confirm my suspicion.
YES! The sun was indeed partially obscured by lumps of gray and the outside world was tolerable.
I tossed on whatever clothes I pulled out of my dresser and quickly tied my hair back. I looked like poo, but care I did not. I dressed her in play clothes and out the door we went, Maya and I, to run a few miles and then scamper off to the park before the puffs of gray disintegrated and the sun reclaimed its throne. She ran and crawled through the grass and picked dandelions, which she rubbed into her face making her look jaundiced. I pushed her on the swing until she refused to hang on to the chains. We went down the slides and walked around the entire park and we simply were. No time-table. Nowhere else to be. She jumped into the sprinkler system puddles on the basketball court and flung belly-laughs into the air.
It was lovely.
Of course, what happens when you look like absolute crap? That’s right- you bump into someone you know, and it’s typically a fairly hot guy. Go figure. A friend happened to pop onto the court for his Sunday morning therapy. Basketball and Miles. I honestly didn’t know the two went together, but he was spot-on. Incredibly relaxing. Maya loves basketball and squealed with excitement every time he threw the ball. After a while, she rested on her belly, elbows bent and chin resting on her hands, and watched him with her little girl smile. I’m pretty sure his heart melted a bit, even when he repeatedly missed the basket and she made fun of him as only a 2 year-old can do. “What happened?” she’d ask after every miss. “He missed,” I would reply, and she would put her tiny hands over her mouth as she laughed. “Yeah, he missed,” she would say. It cracked us up.
No fights to get her to go home. My berry muffins turned out moist and delicious. And I think I might have worn her out a bit because she’s not jabbering non-stop.
Wonderful morning it has turned out to be.