Tonight we had an unusually quiet dinner; one that wasn't punctuated by Jaxon's furious outcries over spilled milk (literally), and one where quiet conversation prevailed. The food was good, too. Phill made some chicken that was really flavorful and tender, and I made a salad.
Everything just smelled good, tasted good, sounded good....and outside it was 90 degrees with a slight breeze.
Our backyard, now a happy place with its carpet of green, is in shade from about 2:00p.m. on. The grass makes it cooler (temperature-wise), and with the hint of a breeze today, it was invitingly pleasant out there.
After dinner, the kids were milling around the backyard in plain sight while I did dishes and Phill swept the dinner remnants from the floor. The soft clink of dish-on-sink, the lull of the air conditioner, and the delicious scent of our dinner still in the air; the children on the grass outside, happy and safe; the kitchen slowly becoming cleaner and cleaner after we had filled our bellies.
"This is nice." Says Phill.
"What--that?" I ask, gesturing to the kids outside, singing and making sound effects while they play.
"Yeah. This." And he moves his hand in the direction of the yard, then over our kitchen, then over the dishes and the air around us.
This: Our children, playing without concern or care while we look on. Our dishes, full of food we are grateful to have, now clean after our thankful hands' work. Our marriage, ripe with laughter and friendship and that particular romance that comes from supporting each other through monotonous day after day; until you reach a moment where it is all glaringly beautiful and the gratitude could ooze out of your ears it's so much. When you are reminded that out of all the less-spectacular moments and more-gritty times, there is beauty in shared happiness. Beauty in home.
Yes. Tonight, this is nice.