Rain, rain, rain

Early this morning the raindrops began to fall, and I suspect they will fall for a while...probably days. Kade and I quietly headed out this morning to Dunkin' Donuts. It is the nearest donut shop. I haven't bought donuts for breakfast for a long, long time. I love donuts. Kade loves donuts. Well, we all love donuts.

Kade really thought it would have been fun to visit Krispy Kreme instead, but there isn't one nearby. He was reminiscing about visiting the store in Billings, Montana where he could climb up on the little stool and watch the donuts' journey. Together we drove on the deserted, rainy streets. Just the two of us.

I smiled.

Nostalgia is part of moving. Remembering is important because sometimes as we say farewell we worry we are leaving something behind.

Though admittedly, I am cleaning and cleaning and cleaning, and we are leaving lots behind. Material goods anyway. We are pausing now to remember more frequently.

Last night I had a couple extra girls...they answered Skype when Ron called. They wanted to see the lemon tree. Ron even picked a lemon for them. I heard the squeals of delight. Then when it was my turn he asked how the girl scout leader was. There are always so many girls at my house that I sometimes forget they don't all belong here.

Which reminds me of a story...last fall, we were gathering around the table for a snack, and I couldn't figure out where one chair went, as we were one chair short. I looked around the first floor to no avail. Confused I appealed to my family for help. Smiling, Ron said, we have an extra child...a chair is not missing. Like I said, I sometimes don't even notice they don't belong me.

One asked me if she could call me mom last night since this was her other home.

"Of course," I answered, "As long as your other mother pays your expenses." Then I become "Mom" by all, all night. I like it better than Mrs. Klinghagen. Significantly better. They loved their donuts for breakfast, too, before I sent them home to their other mothers.

My home is a hub of activity. The neighborhood children seem to gather here. I love it. All the sounds they bring with them--laughter, giggles, shrieks, arguments, animated conversations--are music to my ears as they explore and navigate their woodland adventures and friendships. Childhood is fleeting. What gift to enjoy it!

I have come accept the fingerprints on the front door and scattered throughout the house and the chaos that children bring, and I hope they will remember the memories...not the mess.