Waking up this morning was calm. I am in a house, not on a commercial fishing boat out on the sea.
There was a remnant of a dream about alignment.
Oh, yes, mental note, remember to have the wheels on the mini-van rotated to avoid an alignment issue.
Mother’s Day!
The sun is shining, birds are chirping, and there are feathers all over my bedroom.
Still.
A large decorative pillow came loose at a seam, maybe a week ago now, and somehow the four cats discovered this one afternoon while I was preoccupied somewhere else.
Feathers everywhere. Big mess, happy cats.
In years past, this would have made me cranky. Another mess to clean up. These days, it puts a smile on my face.
Reminding me of the joys of home and pet ownership. The trappings of domestic life.
Messes, in all their glory, are part of being a mom!
Feather clean-up can never come before coffee. Especially on Mother’s Day!
The house is quiet, kids are sleeping after a full day of Sequim Irrigation Festival activities yesterday.
My son spent most of yesterday with his grandmother, my mother.
My husband spent the day before Mother’s Day fishing off of the West Coast. I spent the day in Poulsbo at Viking House with other mothers at play, painting pictures.
My daughter spent the day with friends.
Last night, I watched two old episodes of “House”, had a bit of Ben and Jerry’s Half-Baked ice cream and waited a while for my daughter to come home.
My beautiful girl had tidied the kitchen and family room, my mother had said, while I was away enjoying a day in Poulsbo with friends.
She does that. My daughter. She cares about others.
I went to bed hoping my girl was having a wonderful evening with her friends. Her birth made me a mother eighteen years ago.
Leaving the feather mess behind in the master bedroom this morning, moving past sleeping son and daughter, I made my way downstairs in my blue unicorn pajama pants and one of my husband’s white T-shirts.
The little gray tabby looks up sleepily from a curled up position in the family room. I am her person.
On the kitchen counter was this:
A Mother’s Day gift from my daughter
I read the card that my daughter had made. The words, from her heart, made me cry.
Heading back upstairs, I found her curled up in bed. She smiled, half-asleep. As I tucked the aqua flannel top sheet around her shoulders, I asked my girl if she wanted Wilbur, her cat. A nod for an answer.
Back downstairs, outside on the lid of the hot tub, is the resting form of an orange tabby. He gets scooped up in my arms and delivered to my daughter’s bedroom. Wilbur is delighted!
I peak in my son’s room and he is still sleeping. The black and white elderly tuxedo cat, Jackie, is resting on his sleeping form.
I quietly head back downstairs to make coffee.
A text message comes in from my husband wishing me Happy Mother’s Day.
My husband is on the ocean, commercial fishing for King Salmon. It is a comfort to know he is safe.
The cat which prefers my husband’s company, the long-haired orange tabby named Mango (Wilbur’s brother) is still out in the fields hunting. He misses my husband. I will brush him and comfort him this evening.
I feel very honored to be a mother.
To embrace the trappings of domesticity on land.
It has been a contrast from a lot of my life commercial fishing on the sea and someday I expect to be back on the ocean.
What I also know to be true is that I would not give up a single moment of my life being a mom. Cats, feathers and all.
My two beautiful children are the greatest gift that I have ever known!
Integration 