In the summer of two thousand and ten

A deeply soaking rain falls all around, as if the sky gardener wanted to be sure to water everything well, first thing this morning, before the day heats up. There are no more dry patches under the trees that cover the driveway's gravel - and there is no more dust. The Great Husband put the goats (Rocco, Louie, and Tony) into the barn last night because the rain was on its way, and goats don't like to stand in the rain.

The older Young Giant still sleeps, and I wonder if the other one is awake yet, in his apartment in town, and if he will have to ride his bike to work in such a downpour today. The Girl Giant will come today, to spend the weekend, groom her dog, be here for fireworks. And the Uncle too, bearing tractor parts. It's a good thing we needed the tractor parts. The Great Husband was getting ready to lay hay down in the field, and if it were all cut today, it would be all ruined today. Cut hay + rain = mulch (not feed).

Four years ago on the fourth of July, a high school boy got into a scuffle that turned into a shattered wrist and surgery and months of recovery. That was the summer of some medical marvels for more than one of us. I am not in the medical marvels fan club. I visit when I have to, and that summer I had to. The next summer, my daughter was in the army. The summer after that, more medical marvel fan club meetings (better than ovarian cancer - that's the impetus for attendance - it's better than cancer), and the summer after that, deployment.

This summer, no one is living out of the country, and no one has to attend modern medical marvel club meetings (at least, not yet). I'm turning fifty. So ... what I want for my birthday is boredom. A lack of surprise. No trauma or breath-pounding adjustments. What I want for my birthday is a deeply soaking rain of calm. This year I want normal to be the sweet, good, happiness of everyone near, everyone safe, and everyone laughing at the same jokes. This year, I will know it when I see it - the good stuff will not be missed. My Appreciation Faculties are sharpened and alive like never before. This year, I will say thank you.