Suburban Musical

The doors are thrown open, curtains billow like sails along the windows, and the hanging pots drip with water, the blossoms bursting with thanks. My fingers dance across the keyboard.

peck, peck, peck, rat-a-tat-tat

Dogs barking, girls screeching, and the men of the neighborhood soldiering behind lawnmowers, the air crackles with purpose and potential. The sky overhead, only yesterday dark with rain, is blue as far as the eye can see. The sun bathes everything in her triumphant glow, the storm of yesterday but a blip on our Adirondack summer screen.

We have no plans, just enjoying this crystal moment in suburban bliss - coffeee on the patio, red double stroller brimming with organic goodness from the farmer's market, and our girls napping in diapers upstairs. Sean's hand brushes mine and my heart skips a beat. The lines of his arms, golden and strong, are so familiar, whether holding the girls or reaching out to me. I sigh, sinking into my chair as the heat of the rocks we so laboriously laid, warms the backs of my legs.

A plane flies overhead, a car door slams, birds whistle through the trees and Ella leaps through the doggy door, clicking her way over the patio to where we are. I smile. We are, in good times and bad, part of a bigger picture. A violin in an orchestra, a shade of green in a painting, a clear tenor in a grand chorus.

In this moment here feels like the best place in the world.