Hearing the pitter patter of rain on the air conditioner all night long.
He gets up for his long shift at work. Almost 18. Showers, makes breakfast, packs and lunch and drives himself there. Parenting teens is so strange and amazing.
Walking the farmer's market. Hands on tomatoes, peaches and beets. Flowers even though my garden is full. The lingering scent of dill.
Our chipmunks enjoyed our two tomato plants this summer. Maybe next year.
Being dive-bombed by the hummingbird chase in the backyard.
Monitoring the Facebook group of [now over 800 people] that I started in 2012, when I needed support about an experimental medication that we chose to pursue.
Responding to questions, false truths, worries. Wondering if I have bandwidth to keep giving away my time, knowledge and energy for free. Knowing the answer.
Writing this post outside.
The scent of phlox.
The last day of Shakespeare in the Bunk for 2017. A part of her joy, her love, her people. A bittersweet day.
Making peach cobbler. Eating it for lunch.
Writing the email to the state to document how systems are failing my child. It has taken me two hours so far.
Prepping for visitors next week.
Texting her about my dreams that I rubbed her feet. And I don't even know if she likes foot rubs.