A golden smile in the form of a crescent moon; hung in a deep night blue sky, as I drove north to visit a friend in the hospital.
I had left behind the debris of a perfect day in my kitchen. One load of dishes were swooshing in the dishwasher while the next load piled the counter.
I left behind a house that looked well used. There were crumbs on the floor and a pair of sponge giant feet abandoned in the den; enough disarray to signal life.
As the tires covered kilometres my mind recounted moments of a day passed well.
Morning communion with a beloved church family.
Return to a home filled with tantalizing aromas of a meal almost ready.
A family gathered around two tables--twelve of us.
Tales of our recent travels shared with ready ears eager to hear every detail.
Then a ritual request from two youngest grandchildren: "Omie, can we have some bubbles?"
And two bowls of dish soap bubbles, keep two children happy for more than an hour. They laugh as they stir and spoon them from bowl to bowl and I wonder how it is that the simplest things never grow old.
Because I shook them up in an empty ice cream container, Little One Who Notices Everything said, "Omie it's good that you are re-using. We're learning about that at school."
And "Are you going to keep that to make bubbles?"
And now it sits, not in my blue box, where it was headed, but up on a shelf, waiting for the next time it's needed.
Such a perfect Sabbath. And I am so grateful.