I've been reliving some of my earlier mothering days this week, chauffeuring my concussed son to and from PT appointments, to his umpire workshops, to the light rail station. I'd forgotten how those rides in the car provide a quiet space for conversation, and as R. is particularly taciturn, I'm always amazed that he actually converses when he's the passenger.
Little gifts.
While waiting while he was at PT, I found a French bakery that I'd driven by probably hundreds of times yet never paid attention to — stunningly beautiful and delicate petits fours and cake slices that look like they're fresh off Avenue des Champs Élyéees. Pricey little morsels, but what a great treat.
And then there's the ride home along Lake Washington Boulevard — whitecaps on the lake and the sun flaring out from behind cumulus clouds. Nothing budding out yet, but it's all there, on hold, ready for the shift into a new season.
I used to think that someone could have a pretty tidy busy as a minivan/car analyst. They could make house calls, pick up their patient and drive around, listening to them talk. There's something about boys and cars and opening them up to the deep stuff.
ReplyDeletehope he is okay.
ReplyDeletethe bakery sounds delightful...sometimes it's worth it to pay that little extra...or even that "lot" extra.
trees here are beginning to bud, and as we left for our evening of entertainment, the folks and I marveled that, at 6:20 pm, the sky was still light. It's coming!
I was reminiscing the other day about driving my youngest daughter to nursery school. Each day, I would leave work during my lunch hour and take her from my in-laws to school, and each day we would sing How Much Is That Doggie In The Window and There's A Hole In My Bucket. A chore and a blessing all jumbled up together. Hope R. is doing well.
ReplyDeletethe cake sounds delicious and the clouds beautiful. thanks, sp
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