I’m in the laundry room pulling the clothes from the washing machine when it strikes me that today is a perfect day.
The sun is shining; the breezes take the heat from it making it wonderful to be outside. I peer over the cardboard box that nestles in the corner of the room and look down upon seven new born chicks, I tap the feeder and croon to them hen like and they dash out from under the electric broody, perfect balls of fluffy grey, black and brown stripped down, with bright berry like eyes. Just born yesterday, total waste of time.
The boys are riding around the deck outside, one on a scooter, the other on a go-cart, a thousand tiny elephants trampling across a wood. There is giggling and laughing and screams of mock rage, then more laughing and shouting and the earnestness of competition as they see who can race round the outside table the fastest.
The dogs bask shark like in the lawn, immobile in the heat.
I hear the comforting burble of the cricket on the radio upstairs where Dear Charlie has his siesta as I make my way outside through the back door and down to the twirly washing line in the orchard. The sun shines brightly form a peerless blue sky.
I’d been woken at 6 by my eldest, I growled half-heartedly, they left me to wake up on my own; sheer bliss. I had sauntered downstairs at nine after lazily getting up in my own time, bathing without interruption. Small pleasures but each such a treat.
I’d hazedly picked up their clothes, made their beds and opened their curtains and felt so happy to be shown a story he’d written all on his own, the spelling mistakes did not glare as all I saw was the joy in his face ‘cos he’d done it all on his own. I felt such pride, such unmitigated joy I positively floated downstairs for breakfast and the perfect day continued.
I’d been given time to potter about with my hens, feeding and watering them and taking time to see them all, no rush, no hurry.
Time to talk to the neighbours about goats and kids, to admire how pretty they are, to say I’d not seen any nearly so good at the Suffolk Show.
Time to see a beautiful newly finished wooden kayak being loaded onto the roof of a car, to be told that it was for his son who was coming home from Australia away for nine months he has been and during that time, this boat had been painstakingly made as a surprise. All through the winter, all through the spring, all through the dark days when his son was away ready now for his return. The excitement is palatable you can see it shining in his eyes. You want it to be a perfect day, tomorrow, on his return.
The boys had demanded to play Monopoly, I agreed to be banker. I had fun. Of course I cheated a bit no one should lose too badly, it’s only money after all.
I didn’t have to make lunch, far too menial a job for a banker. And although I did have to clear up, it didn’t matter today, it is far too perfect a day to sweat the small stuff.
And so here I am after hanging out the clothes reminding myself for years to come just what a perfect day today is…