Doors open, the air and the children move freely between inside and out. Unconscious, or unwilling to be bound by consciousness, their feet turned without slowing, powered by great motors of heart. All manner of objects were strewn about the yard in a post apocalyptic grid of childhood frenzy. Everything. From wheelbarrows to hula hoops, bicycles to rain boots, rakes and a hammer, some rope... a disposable camera.
I stepped, cautiously, from the car. Home from a day in which I'd left long before the little beings had stirred their first thought from outside the reins of slumber. I was noticed only with sideways smiles and glances amidst their flurry, not the attention to which I've become accustomed to receiving after a long day away. Hmmm. Now I approached the house with care, having an idea that the mommy on the other end of this type of activity could be severely not well. A casualty of this riotous scene, in miniature. How would I find the Mama Soule? Could she have possibly lived through a day at home with these three, plus one, and have a remaining shred of...herself?
My stomach sinks into slightly uneasy as I recall how I feel at the end of a particularly long day flying solo with this band of marauders. I circle around the car and approach the front porch like I'm the first person upon a crime scene. For a moment, I am distracted as they circle around me two, three times and then off again with audible enthusiasm. When was the last time I spoke with Amanda? I think it was before lunch. I carry on, climbing the steps now. Craning my head around the railing I catch my first glimpse of the her. Sitting outside, sunglasses on, smiling baby on her lap. Before I have a chance to actually speak the kids surround us in an instant. Attempting to fill me in on the ten hours of their life I just missed with a boiled down thirty second assault, I catch some key words...fort. whittle. Ezra. awesome. bandaid. I finally receive the love as little arms wrap around me from all directions. Now they're off again, down the stairs and away.
In the remaining silence I turn and look at my wife. We exchange an understanding look.
"I made popcorn for dinner....want some?!"
I love this woman.
