June 7, first out

Up on the Roof

When I was a kiddo, I used to love to sit out on the roof. There wasn't much to see, just the pasture and the woods behind our farm house. But it was the cat in me that liked the up. And the teenager in me liked the out. So I sat there for as long as my ADD would allow me to before bouncing off to some other activity.

Today, my husband wants me up on the roof to do some mundane housekeeping that will be hard on my knees and take more time than I want to spend. I would rather be reading my book. I have given him buckets of grief about getting up there.

Maybe I have forgotten the joy of the up and the out. Even doing what I have to do, maybe I can take the time to look out over my neighborhood: the neat little houses, the neighbors doing everyday things, the lush greens of the grass, the cottonwoods, the sycamore and oak. Watch the dogs pace the fences, hear the neighborhood kids laugh. Be glad that I am up there because I am smaller and spryer than poor husband.

What can I find on the roof? Perspective.

While I'm up there, I want to remember that some moments, while unremarkable in and of themselves, are great and joyful because they lack drama and pain. That good days can be cobbled together with goodbye kisses, fresh cherries for lunch, a favorite song on the radio and the sun on my back while I perform a chore. I want to do a thing without complaining. I want to be sweet for him.

I can always read later, right?