tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7080124.post-86781644577928323282007-07-16T10:45:00.000-05:002007-07-16T11:25:03.125-05:00Still in our pajamas, fresh from a date with dreams, Selah and I sat on the swing in the front yard. We thanked God for the moist grass, the yellow sky, the watermelon crape myrtle in the neighbor's yard, the coffee brewing inside, Hamlet, Zoe, Nic, Moxie, Elsa and Daddy. Always Daddy.<br /><br />I sang softly. Jesus loves me. This I know. The breeze from our swinging swept my hair in tickles across our cheeks. I was holding on to the moment as snugly as I held the girl.<br /><br />A small, beat-up, red truck turned the corner onto our street, gliding past the houses at a sleepy pace. A petite, olive-skinned woman sat in the passenger seat. The ragged, straw cowboy hat perched on her head shadowed her eyes, but not her dazzling smile. Her window was down. She was enjoying the cool morning, too.<br /><br />She spotted us on the swing and leaned forward. She raised her arm and pulled a closed fist against her heart. She brought it to her mouth in a kiss and back to her chest, where she drummed it gently, firmly.<br /><br />"Yes, I am. I will." I spoke to the air. But she heard and nodded. And left me with her beautiful, knowing, teaching smile.Shannonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07296794498771496242noreply@blogger.com