Catch the Wave

It's 5:30 p.m. My parenting partner calls with a concerned follow up to gun shots in the neighborhood I reported hours earlier. I would like to reassure her all is well (and it is), but it's difficult to speak, much less hear. A child is at the door and she points out the twelve bales of insulation in my driveway that a dear friend delivered, salvaged, from a worksite. That must be put under cover immediately. But there is also the newly dead young turkey awaiting burial on the picnic table. Two 7 year-olds and two 5 year olds are taking turns digging the hole. Nearby, a three year old girl is playing house with a seven year old under the wooden racks of laundry I am hanging, roofed with a sheet. The girl who has just arrived joins them. One mother drives by on the street, looking at me questioningly -- is everything all right? I nod and wave to reassure, and yes, yes, I tell Seda, when the turkey is buried, the laundry hung, and the insulation in, things will be calmer. I pick a bird louse off my neck. Lucky me.

And I do mean that. I thought I had a lot on my plate working my way through college. Having my first newborn threw me into a sea of chaos that swirled me dizzy around that tiny human vortex. Now, here I am, in awe of chaos in order (I just meant to write "chaos and order," but, indeed, what I wrote first describes it better), and noting the rush in simply riding the wave.

To think, I'm still afloat to write about it!