enchanted evening

After work today, I made it to the bus stop just in time. I pulled up to the corner, jumped out and half-walked/half-ran in my noisy heeled boots towards the baby, who was hanging out in an Ergo worn by our wonderful sitter Danielle, mother to Eligh, who would soon tromp down the steps of the bus with Gabriel.

When I am reunited with the baby I am terribly rude; I only have eyes for her and can't manage to say hello or notice anyone else until she is in my arms. Happily Danielle seems to get this and just hands me the baby when I approach. With Beatrice climbing up my front and jamming her chubby fingers into my mouth, the big kids arrive and we all decamp for Danielle's, where I need to pick up the car seat. Once there, Danielle feeds us pear bread (so good!) and after some negotiations, I leave Gabriel playing with Eligh on the skate ramp his dad built in their backyard while I go looking for Frances.

I drive the minivan home, and find Frances making rainbow loom bracelets at our next-door neighbor's house. Frances gets a ride home from school with our neighbor most afternoons. We walk in, Frances tells me about her Native American project at school, and the baby cannot wait another second to nurse, so I sit with her while Frances talk talk talks and part of my mind wonders what I can possibly rustle up for dinner. Then I put some big white beans on the stove to simmer, slip on my old clogs, and announce that we have to go get Gabriel immediately because though it is only 4:45 it will soon be dark!

Miraculously this is met with no complaints and Frances, Beatrice and I soon rush out the door and down the street. We find Gabriel and Eligh running around like wild beasts, which is their wont when together, and after I apologize to Danielle for taking so long to get back, my three children and I head home.

And much as the point of lots of strenuous yoga is the deep restorative rest of savasana, the point of all this back and forth and regular life logistics was our quiet walk home. We needed the buzz and rush to come before in order to more perfectly absorb the peaceful neighborhood and evening sky, which was exquisite. The sun setting at the end of the street lit up the clouds in so many shades of warm. It looked, according to Gabriel, like a box of pink Puffins (the cereal) had spilled across the sky.

Walking down the middle of the street, with my baby nestled against my chest, my son on one side of me and my daughter on the other, I felt complete. Grateful. Everything as it should be, even the early darkness.

Eventually Frances and Gabriel started bickering. I told them to cut it out because they were ruining my beautiful moment. They laughed. No, seriously, I said. The sky is too perfect. You cannot fight with each other right now.

Well. Ahem. They started back at it about a minute later. But it was okay. We were still bathed in that fading light, which clung to us when we went inside.

Fall, I think, is the best season. And maybe - just maybe - November is the best month.