where’s my commune when I need it?

You know you have a good friend when you can just call her up and invite yourself over and she says, “YAY! We’d love to have you! When can you be here?”

See, I was supposed to be on my way down to my sister-in-law’s and then to my aunt’s, but plans change. Now we’re leaving Sunday after my nephew’s dedication. Since we had nothing on the schedule for today, I thought it might be fun to hang out with someone who isn’t asking me to read 17,000 stories by 10 am.

It was nothing fancy, but it was wonderful. We ate hot dogs and popcorn in the shade of a grand old tree. We watched the
children run through the sprinkler and swing on the swings. We tossed out words to spell and gave time-outs. We chatted and let silence (well, what silence there is bedecked by 6 small people running around) reign. We nursed our babies and doled out snacks.

Neither one of us wanted the afternoon to come to a close, but we had our own lives to get back to. I’m thinking it would be nice sometimes as her four year old suggested, if we could all live together. Tribal cultures lend a wonderful viewpoint to some sort of comraderie that’s mostly absent in our own.

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