Possibly the Best Yet

It's no secret mornings have my heart.  

But don't even get me started on a morning like my Saturday one.  

Waking up at my friends' lake cabin with the reflection of the sun off the water nearly blinding me through the window, hearing the sounds of men visiting about their trip to town to check something out, rubbing my eyes with, "What time is it?"  Hearing, "Six thirty."  Curling back in.  Not quite ready for it yet.  

Waking up again.  This time to the sounds of breakfast being prepared for the little voices which followed the pitter patter of their tiny feet.  My friend doing her mothering.  And doing it well.  

Asking, "What time is it?"  Hearing, "Seven thirty."  

Being pounced on by two poptarts who wanted to jump right on with me on that hide-a-bed.  Time for the big show of real morning.  No more of the small previews of before.  

The hair of a well slept person.  The face of, "I need some coffee." 

I get you Emma Bean.  Big brothers have a way of taking it one step too far.  To the land of squished toe.  

Moving on to the next ticket.  Muffins.  The littlest little ate her muffin all by herself thank you very much.  The sun kissing her sweet face for the entirety.   

Then, swooping up that muffin faced baby to take her out in the morning.  Enjoying coffee with constant chatter from the fishing pole carrying big sister.  

Drinking in the beautiful warm sun and the swish swish of lightly blowing tree leaves and the smell of the lake right along with my coffee.  

Swooping that baby right back up to snuggle her in for the sharing of a second cup.  This time with Danae sitting next to me.  It was some sort of magic; yet another one of those moments.  

I'm here.  I'm actually here.  Here to these parts of life I always dreamed about.  Drinking coffee and visiting with a friend while babies are held and play underfoot.  I'm here.  This is the the good stuff. 
   

Coffee time was slow.  The very best kind of slow.  Staying in pajamas.  Not rushing to start the next thing.  Definitely not taking time to tame the hair.  Letting the two older poptarts spill Cheerios all over because really it doesn't matter.  Lasting so long it turned into nap time.  

Now this is the really good stuff.  

Slowly, the rest of the world trickled back into our magic morning.  Fishing happened.

The deck was swept of the Cheerio massacre.  More people showed up to enjoy the day on the lake.  

Danae and I finally left our perches to get ready for the day.  But instead, we were stopped in the kitchen.  With a glance towards each other.  We both were in.  In for a detour.  We put my iphone in a bowl, each placed a baby on a hip, and sang our hearts out in an impromptu kitchen dance party.  Not caring one bit everyone trickling in was seeing us in our jammers with bedhead and hearing us belt it out and watching our not so smooth dance moves.   

When it started, I took a picture with my heart.  Many pictures with my heart in fact.  It's our thing.  To sing and dance.  Growing up won't stop us.

After the first couple songs, I finally ran out to the deck and yelled to Blake, "Will you please come here?"  Pictures in my heart weren't enough.  I wanted the real thing.  I wanted to be able to look at these pictures one day when I'm old and gray.  To look at them and know I had a best friend I danced with and sang with.  

To look at them and know I didn't care about the way I looked because I was too busy living in the right now.  Too busy with being ridiculously happy.  

To look at them and know we were a positive influence in those little girls' hearts.  An influence of throwing caution to the wind and being silly. 

To look at them and know when my little sister scanned through my camera the next day she yelled,  "I remember you and Danae doing that all the time when you lived together!  My friends and I loved it!"  Those are the things in which I want to be remembered for. 

To know on a July morning at a lake cabin, I shared in the perfect kind of morning with people I love and that this life we are a part of is oh so very good.  The kind of good I want to wrap my arms around and give an enormous squeeze hug.  While my hair looks like that of a lion of course.     

Yes. 

When I'm old and gray, I will look back at these pictures and smile.  And hopefully I will feel that even though mistakes were made along the way...I did some things right too. 

Kitchen singing and dancing party style.