Ridiculous wealth

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Izzy at play with bubbles and the bubbies. 

The tiny house is quiet. It is Sunday morning and the pup-taunting bubbles have been put away, number one son is stretched out in the next room, number one daughter and her husband are nestled in my room. Even the big dog’s green ball rests beside my feet while she sleeps. I am filled to bursting. These people.

A confession: even though I know better, I still sometimes squinch at the message my “grad school” apartment and sweet Pontiac Vibe may send. In a culture where bigger is better (and often more hollow), I am living a small life.

The bullying worries of not being enough can out-shout the quieter more important questions of “am I loving well?” and “do they they know they are seen, heard, and loved?”

But this weekend, I have been reveling in the truth: we are more than enough, bubbles are cheap entertainment, and I am ridiculously wealthy.

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The art of Tetrising the people you love around a familiar table.

Yesterday, we hosted a framily meal with the Mayes-es around – and one of our number under – the table. We marveled at John’s deepening voice, Clara’s baking and patience, how we worked together to find enough chairs, make the pies, and prepare to Tetris eight-people into the tiny apartment’s dining hall. Had we had another leaf for the table, we’d have drawn in more of the people who enliven this living.

There is always more room for people. More people equals more laughter and goofy bits; two things we can never have enough of. (Big sigh of wonder.)

While the kids discovered artisanal burgers with their dad and step-mum last night, I read and played with the big furry one. We were all where we needed to be and I was genuinely happy – grateful, even.

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Izzy and her big green ball.

This morning, Izzy and I scared up a few ducks from the tree outside of my window, barked a hello to an unconcerned rabbit, ran across one of my favorite herbs (lemon verbena) in the lushness of a nearby alleyway garden, and let the kids…adult children sleep.

There is coffee and now stirring in the room to my right. Izzy hopes Uncle Kenan understands the secret message she is sending with the heavy green ball and her hopeful unwavering gaze.

Maybe we’ll hit up the Chef for breakfast. Maybe we’ll kennel Izzy and head to the Konza (no pups on the Konza, folks!) or the ad hoc water park at Blue Earth Plaza. We’ll venture out this afternoon to rendezvous with my sister, Mimi, and her peeps for reconnecting. We’ll likely add an adventure (and shenanigans) to our mix.

One thing I know is we will not be fancy. We’ll be family.

And that makes us ridiculously wealthy.

(You are welcome here. We have room for more around this table.)

END NOTE: Thank you to the people – and their families – we honor on Memorial Day. Because of your courage, your derring-do in action, we celebrate freedom to work for something better for all of us.

 


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