the week with the longest day of the year

We moved here more than twelve years ago.  Our first house, three bedrooms, one bath.  We've added a finished basement, another full bath, a new patio.  More than that, we've added four small pairs of feet to our home and lots of good friends to our contact lists.  It's such a small place, Grandview, with such a big sense of community.

Tucker finished Camp Invention last week, led by the district's chief academic officer.  He had the best time.  Today he got his room placement for second grade, and has already received messages from kids who are excited to be in the same class with him next year.

But the start of school is still two months away.  We have lots of long, hot days to fill.  My perspective alternates between tired and energized.  There's the notion of too many toys and not enough play, the reality of stuff on the floor and screens in their faces I try to moderate.

Earlier this week we walked more than a mile to a friend's backyard cherry tree, depositing ripe fruit into small plastic buckets.  The boys were unpredictably enthusiastic about this activity.  Stained fingers gripped scooter handles on our way home, smiles above sticky red chins.  Eager voices greeted Andy at the end of his thirteen hour shift, a pile of pitted cherries for him to sample.

Neighbors recently passed along a bunch of Batman toys.  Others have brought flowers.  And the boys found packages from a secret admirer near the front door mail slot one morning, chapter books and Lego guys.

Today the boys were invited to play with older friends, where the teenager set up science experiments to do with Tuck and the middle schooler retrieved long forgotten blocks and racetracks to entertain Tols.  The playdate gave me, and my tiniest sidekick, more than a minute of peace.  I drank a whole cup of coffee while it was still hot.  I added real cream, vanilla extract, sprinkled cinnamon on top.

Instead of beans or days or calories, I'm counting blessings.