We eat sweet ataulfo mango scored into cubes and eaten right from the peel with our fingers, the sticky juice getting everywhere. Bean runs round and round the coffee table coming back each time for more, his cheeks flecked with the yellow fruit. We’re both grinning. The sun hits the back of my neck and makes the leather of the couch warm to the touch. The cats are sitting on the windowsill soaking up the sun’s heat, and when we go out onto the porch for a moment I hear birds—not just the house finches and chickadees that have kept us company all winter, but early song birds that I cannot yet name by call alone.
The lowers DH brought home a few days ago for me, still blooming: hot magenta, lemon and golden petals filling the room with delicate fragrance. Breakfast is my favorite meal and this week we’ve been gathering around the island in the kitchen, the three of us eating mouthfuls of warm buttered toast, fresh plums, yogurt, coffee. Even though Bean was up so much last night I heard myself say to DH, “I can’t wait for the night to be over,” at around 2:30 a.m., this start to the day somehow redeems it. The tiredness temporarily wiped away by the fact that I’m here with my guys in the kitchen, DH and I swapping small talk and smiles while Bean kicks his highchair and practices using a fork.
By late morning I sink gratefully into clean sheets (I love the way they feel, newly laundered), and nap hard with Bean nudged into the nook of my arm. When he wakes me two hours later, I can’t figure out where I am. The house, the bedroom, everything is utterly unfamiliar for a minute as my brain untangles itself from the terrain of my dream.
It is one of those days of family meals, and I love this. I make tofu with sesame seeds and almonds, sautéed sugar snap peas, rice pilaf, and while I’m cooking DH and Bean take a walk down the block. I catch them with my camera on their return, and Bean sees me from half a block away and grins as wide as a melon wedge when he runs into my arms.
Later we go to the park, snow still on the ground, and I watch in wonderment as my baby is suddenly a kid. Independent. Exploring. Picking up woodchips and throwing them with glee, then taking my hand and climbing the stairs to the slide where we go down together over and over again. On the way back I look for more evidence of spring: and find sap making buds knobby and big on twigs, and former icy patches into puddles reflecting sky.
When we get home I finally make it: the perfect chai masala. Steamed milk, good sugar, and this tea.
in my head i know that there are the harder parts of your day that you don’t write here, but i still keep on thinking, “what a life christina leads…all yummy meals, strolls with her guys, and naps”.
Sounds delightful!
grins as wide as a melon wedge.
love this!
There is *nothing* better than getting into a freshly-made bed. Nothing.
You know, Jillian, some days–many days–there ARE the harder parts. But today was hard part free. Like seedless grapes: sheer sweetness and juice. Of course, I wish every day was like this, and it comes hard one after a rough week last week…but I’ve started to learn to take note of the good stuff while it’s happening. To savor it. To really deeply enjoy it, because it’s fleeting, because there are those days where all I get are pith and seeds and no sweetness at all. You know?
I was thinking the same thing, wondering when your life could possibly be anything less than yummy! To me, I’m most jealous of the NAPS! the naps! I can’t even get Chas to nap longer than an hour, much less lay down beside him! Not fair at all :}
ditto what mama-tulip said…clean sheets are a small bit of heaven.
I love mangoes! I could have them everyday. My mango juices are consumed in a day or less.. Mangoes and bananas. Love them to death!
I was thinking the same thing Jillian wrote! It sounds like you have a great outlook on life. I know from experience that a good day after a rough week makes me feel giddy.
“wide as a melon wedge” such a perfectly perfect description! Fresh-made beds are pure heaven, aren’t they??
You day sounded idyllic.
Sounds lovely. Especially the part about the chai at the end of your day. A good friend of mine from India taught me how to make chai the right way, with tea and milk and ground cardomom…haven’t made it for a while, and reading this post makes me want to rush home and brew up a batch.
mmmmmmmmm…
that day sounds
blissfully lovely
all
scented
and
warm…
glimpses of a gloriously filled day!
“like seedless grapes”…you have the ability to wrap every word you say in a sweet, golden, chrysalis. i’m so glad that you share the beauty of your pith-free days, christina.
You know when people ask you that famous question of “Describe your ideal day?” And our tendency is to fantasize wildly…to imagine Paris or the tropics or movie stars or vast wealth… When, really, all we need to satisfy that requirement is a day very much like the one you described here.
Reading this was such a treat – satisfied all five of my senses!
Mmmmm, Mmmmm Chai. Gets me through the day, everyday.
Beautiful story.
Dear Christina,
It was lovely to read your wednesday mosaic. As I’m sitting here in an office with ringing phones and shouting people, it was some kind of a runaway moment for me. The melon wedge smile even made me dream of a baby boy of my own