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The Moment

fall sunset.jpg

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It’s Friday. Well, okay, it’s actually Wednesday. But tomorrow is Thanksgiving and it’s the end of the work week after 5:00 p.m. today.

So much to say. Jonathon’s getting more opportunities to make money. He will start teaching, a master’s degree course, on December 3. He also proofread a an algebra textbook and made some bank there. He’s really taking off. God is so good.

I worked for Microsoft last week, taking notes at the fall PAC. It went well, if a little long. Ended up with 105 pages. I wrote a novel, folks. Not a good novel, but a novel. Over 40,000 words. Wow. Crazy.

We headed home a day early. Thursday morning, we packed up. I got settled in to work at the dining room table. Suddenly, I had company.

“Mom, can I sit here?” Ruby looked at me. She wanted to draw at the table.

“Sure,” I thought. But I wondered if I could keep concentrating with someone else sharing the space.

“Mom, I’m gonna make a beat,” Zac announced. He set up camp at the table, too. He opened his laptop and laid out his mini keyboard and speakers. He flipped on the fake fire and started sampling melodies. Aloud.

Alrighty then. How would THIS work? With all those pages to edit, I wondered if I’d be able to focus. I had already done the autocorrects for the partner comments and a little of the overall spell check.

I sighed inwardly. Then I got down to it.

“Mom, what do you think of this?” Zac played a melody in a minor key. It sounded like an old player piano.

“Creepy,” I offered. I continued fixing all the contractions that looked like don’t’. You can run a macro for that. Huzzah.

I hummed along. Rex sauntered in and lay down by the fire. I knew it wouldn’t take long. He loves to be warm. Dakota started barking. She could see me through the rotunda’s glass door. I let her in. She trotted into the dining room. Rex hissed at her but didn’t move. Dakota sighed and laid herself down on the other side of me. I should have taken roll call.

I peeked over at Ruby’s drawing. She was coloring in the dress on a little girl she had drawn. Pink. Nice.
“Looks good, Ruby,” I said.

She smiled.

A peace washed over me. The fire sparkled. The kids chatted back and forth, ribbing each other. Rex passed out. Dakota wandered in and out, sniffing each of us, looking for treats.

It felt magical. Could I someday have a telecommuting job? I soaked up every minute of it. (Yes, I finished the editing.) I know how rare these moments are. With Thanksgiving tomorrow, I just wanted to say how thankful I am for this life, for now. We can’t relive moments. We can only live in them.

 

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