Thursday, March 3, 2011
Driving down the road today, two boys in tow, a warm breeze hit my face and took me, for just a moment, to times less complicated.
The Eagles rock out something about girls and California as we drive my beloved PCH. It stretches before us for miles and miles, salty wind runs through strands of wannabe blonde hair and we, we sit side by side with much to say and nothing at all.
We were driving to Santa Barbara. A wine tour through the Santa Inez Valley and dinners at mom and pop restaurants, bicycle rides on the beach and cigar walks on the sand, comfy pillows and alarms unplugged awaited us, but the road is what I miss.
I miss the lack of agenda. The lack of deadlines (if not for a few days), the lack of watch-checking and babysitter-fee-calculating. I miss getting away to dream. To love. To be. Without the pressure of trying to catch up on words and sleep. I miss the world that was ours alone, the selfish love we indulged in for years before God gave us our babies.
I love my boys, my baby and my son-turned-pirate, and I eat and breathe and live and sleep their needs, their wants, their joys and sorrows. My life is richer and fuller than ever before because they're here and because I'm their mother.
But with the catch of the warm breeze today, with the catch of his eye this morning, I'm left wanting more of us. Just us.