our fourth

beautiful independence day. we did up all american-style. made a peach pie and listened to country music (so you have to too. press play. you have to. and thank you alli for the song) had burgers and lit sparklers.

it was pretty fabulous.

a couple of weeks each summer of my childhood were spent lake-side with my family. my grandma, games of Sorry and cookies. my mom, books and bonnie raitt. a boat, minnows a sister or two and my dad. beautiful stuff. and a lot of peach pie.

and as i made my peach pie filling last night, i innocently stuck my nose in the bowl.

and before i knew what was happening, i was bawling. hands holding the kitchen counter, tears hitting the tile.

that smell. it propelled me backwards and the impact brought a flood of tears. scenes of innocence took over my mind-space. my grandma, our summer cabin weeks, a life of easier.

i stood and thought of what could satiate this new thirst. i could go to minnesota and see my grandma. i could even visit that cabin where we spent so many fabulous days. but no. nothing would satisfy this. it was all of it-- a longing for days of simple childhood joy. and i can reach for those places and people and they are gifts. but it will never be as simple as it was. can't set free this responsibility- these years (though there haven't been that many).

so i ate peach pie in memory. in a little bit of mourning. and in thanksgiving. for all that has come before and won't be again.

it's a good life, folks. He gives us good all over the place. i know it's here in the midst of my two-year-old's fits of temper and my laundry piles. His goodness. HE is here.