I love the house Dr. Gooch bought. I never knew, but he told me yesterday he'd always wanted a circular drive. I love our circular drive. Pulling up past the swaths of Thyme and Lavender under the shade of scattered Japanese Maples to the brick stoop below eaves of dental moulding---well, it's inviting.
He's suddenly savvy with domestic duties. Dr. Gooch is installing an automatic garage and fixing the closet light pulls and applying vice grips to tables, sawing holes in the side of cabinets to install a dryer...and all the while still showing his face at the hospital to save lives: last night, young male with gunshot wound to the crotch. His commentary, "You know you've gone wrong when you're getting shot in the crotch (not his words exactly)." He's always happy to come home to the peace of his family. Even if, like at four o'clock, it isn't so peaceful.
But the house is. In turn inviting peace: the warm worn wooden floors and today, the quiet of a Sunday morning. I wish I could be this house. Cozy rooms where people want to gather around each other. A safe place, and private, with a view of the tree tops from all windows. I love the hour in our bedroom, when the traffic stops and the cicadas take over. We stay up with them, rearranging the remnants of our lives out of boxes into drawers and dressers until the cicadas, too, finally fade to silence. These are the wee hours. We whisper about the day, and the house, and the children, until neither remembers when the whispering stopped and morning began.
Life is slipping along even without the books properly lined in their new shelves. We have to love each other with attention and listen to the night bugs singing in the trees even when the cardboard is filling up the hallways and you can't find the comb. This is my reminder.