I'm excited about tomorrow. Just the two of us spending the day ratting around doing junk we love. We're going to start at the Farmer's market. There's alwaya live music, food, and local artisans. We'll buy fresh eggs from the chicken lady, and some preserves from another lady. Then, I get to select fabric from another woman who'll be making an organizer for my vanity.
Afterward, we'll probably look at antiques shops. These are some of my favorite kinds of days, just spending time that is loosely planned and allowing the day to reveal its treasures as it goes along. I have a crystal bowl in the kitchen from our last excursion into the flea markets, and a beautiful blue glass flower vase from our first antique-hunt.
My pumpkin is 18 today. I did not give her permission to turn 18. I don't like it. I miss reading to her and to her sister, all cuddled together on my bed, stretching out the hour before lights-out, perhaps The Elephant's Child, or Rikki Tikki Tavi where I would stop reading a line and they would excitedly cry out,
"Then Kolokolo Bird said, with a mournful cry, 'Go to the banks of the great grey-green, greasy Limpopo River, all set about with fever-trees"
"Come hither, Little One, and I will whisper."
"and his tail grew bottle-brushy at the thought of it"
"Rikki-tikki felt his eyes growing red and hot"
"... and from time to time he would give his war cry of "Rikk-tikk-tikki- tikki-tchk!"
We loved Rudyard Kipling. His words are so alive and rich, dripping with exotic imagery and exciting adventure.
That time is past and I miss it deeply, though I love having daughters on the cusp of becoming amazing young ladies. I always have those two sweet little blonde heads nestled in my heart.
My Allie is 18. She is beautiful, intelligent, articulate, and ready for the world. If I had my way, I would tether her to my nest, but I raised her to fly, even as we snuggled together and explored the world from the safety of mom's bed and the beauty of a well-spun tale.
I love you, pumpkin. Fly high and remember, wherever you are, there is always room in mom's nest for her grown-up little chicky to visit, snuggle, and share stories.
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