Large is an upstanding young man. He has stepped up in his father's absence. His wood chopping and water fetching skills are above par. And once the under the breath back talk has ceased, we all will be a bit more chipper. His tongue isn't as sharp as mine, yet. That withstanding, I think he will prove himself exceptional to this world.
Tonight I found myself unable to back down the driveway. The rain has come down in sheets throughout the day. Large had taken the bus home and arrived hours before us. Medium and Small are in an after school program. It's mainly for Small's bennifit. He still is pessimistic about it all. I digress, it was well after dark by the time we made it to the top of our ridge. As I drove down the access road, I could feel the tires squish into mud. As I pointed the truck's nose down the driveway I slid quickly into part of our overgrown top field. The boys yelled, similar to my stop scream from the other night. The truck jerked to a halt. I reversed, and struggled to get out of the hole I had created. I texted Small Farm Girl to gritch. We parked, and walked down. Small comforting me on the way, "the raccoons won't eat your face mom." I barked in laughter. My sweet boy, so concerned about my fictitious fear. He knows that I am not scared of raccoons eating my face, he was talking to aliviate his own fears.
The rain fell, cold needle like drops, down on us as we walked the dark path. The three of us laughing, whistling and scaring each other about horror movie ideas. Finally the trees canopied over us, and we had a slight reprieve from the chilled water. But the small streams of rushing water tripped us up, sliding here and there. As the descent became steeper, the mangled mess of washed down leaves became thicker and the mud threatened to keep our shoes. Yet we managed to make it to the grassy flats with little damage. And that's when we heard the water rushing through our creek. Loud and authoritative. If the sun had been lighting our way I would have obeyed its command of attention. We walked on, and discovered, for the first time, our wash was flooded, and feeding the greedy creek. The boys and I crossed quickly, soaking are feet. The water burned with the coolness. And we sloshed the rest of the way home jovially.
Large greeted us with a lamp and a roaring fire.
My nights are lonely without Husband. But for now, this is how it must be. If we are to keep everything we have struggled for, if we are to flourish, then Husband must travel the thousand miles to work. He will be home soon, if only for a visit. And I yearn for that reunion.