We played catch in the only square of grass in the whole big campgrounds. Fortunately it is right next to our RV. Lucky us! “Play catch” was actually an item on our to-do list. My husband and I realized we'd been on a streak of doing and needed to be on-purpose about being, especially with our kids.
Earlier in the afternoon the boys had all gone to play shuffleboard. I stayed in the quiet of our small home, listening to much-needed nothing in particular. After a while, I prayed, then went to find my family. I have never seen shuffleboard in person or on a screen. Interesting game, ish? Okay, I played one game because it made my younger son smile and leap about in the joy of getting to play a sport with mommy. You know, that still baffles me. Being anyone's mommy, and I have two who call me by this title as if it were a name.
After the one game, my older son was thirsty, tired of being out in the heat and ready to go home. The other two stayed on, gliding those little discs about. On the way to our camper, my son skipped ahead, his long, curly brown hair bouncing on his back. The afternoon sun touched him just so and for a moment I opened a little wider to a wordless understanding and acceptance of his personhood, my motherhood and how it is all seamlessly connected. It is life, and I was, just then, being treated to one of the sweeter aspects.
Soon the other two came back, we ate, we annoyed each other, we entertained each other and laughed, and an hour before sunset, we began looking for a ball. If our search produced accurate information, we managed to purge our belongings a little too well. But... there are fruit trees every few feet in the campgrounds. So, grapefruit acquired, looking like I don't know what, we played catch for most of an hour with only a few minor bruises (citrus fruit is hard!).
Now I'm out for some Heidi time. One of my goals was to get quarters as the husband happily agreed to do laundry once I get home. The grocery store was out of rolls and Target and Michaels aren't allowed to sell quarters (now I know). At Starbucks, before settling in, I asked if they might be able to make the trade. From the tip jar, I was blessed with $5 worth. While the barista was counting out the remaining dollar bills for a ten, another employee who was washing windows came over and handed me $3 in quarters. Once I had three dollar bills, I attempted to hand them to her. No go, says she. When I tried to go in and put them in the tip jar she blocked my way, with a smile of course. I'll accept her generosity.
I can only assume I've just been on the receiving end of a pay-it-forward. I guess it's my turn now.