Lydia J Will

We loaded up the 11 year old mini van, buckled kids in seats and set off.  Somewhere along the Mason-Dixon line, the landscape changed.  At home, buds were cautiously appearing on the fingertips of trees.  Here, full grown leaves waved at us as we drove by.

Dogwoods, Magnolias, Azaleas unabashedly brilliant, showing off their springtime splendor in typical southern belle style.  When we made it to the Valley and the purple-blue mountains rose up on both sides, little noses pressed to glass and we all marveled - "Look, Mom!  Baby cows!  That one is nursing on his Mama!"

Seasons changing, always a miracle, and nothing more brilliant than Spring in the Shenandoah Valley (unless it is Autumn in Michigan...).

We drove down for a quick visit to celebrate a few birthdays.  Pa, turning 75, still as kind and regal as the day I met him.  And for J, a little surprise for his 30th - long lost friends, a lot of cake and a video of his life.

While I sit there watching, him with old friends and me, surrounded by our 4 beautiful people, I wonder at such a life - and wonder what he thinks.  In 30 years, growing from that little promise of a person in his Mama's tummy to this, a man with four beautiful babies and one on the way, a firm grasp on responsibility and love and faith and family.  And though 30 years can pass in what feels like moments, he has worked each season to become who he is now.

Its all just a vapor, and it really does come down to what are you going to do with it?  This brief time of breezing over the earth.

I pack a minivan and travel the roads home, pondering.  This morning, wake to children with hungry tummies and a house that needs attention, and laundry, always laundry.  I sip my coffee and smile big - this is my work, and I'm on it.