There were some windows on Sunday.

Moments between bagging three month’s worth of recycling and hauling it to the transfer station.  Time after I pulled out boxes and steamed-cleaned floors, trying to trace the scent of a dead animal in the closet (never found it).

There were windows with Radiohead, alone in the car.  Walking out of the art supply store with a fresh journal.  Opening the post office box to find a check.  Spraying countertops clean with the scent of lavender.  Pouring water into a new filtered pitcher.  Making popcorn with melted butter and Hawaiian salt.

In the late afternoon, Jeb and I pick 80 Ti leaves so he can make his Hawaiian skirt for the school graduation ceremony.

“We need more!  They’re going to be able to see through it!”

By day’s end, I’m exhausted but organized.  Anticipating Monday but dedicated to the moment.  We take an evening stroll.  We walk slowly and choose the long way.

Sometimes he’ll hold my hand.  Sometimes he’ll practice cartwheels on the grass.  Sometimes he’ll hang on me like a jungle gym and drive me nuts.  I have to remind him that’s he’s big now, three-fourths my size.

On the way back home he gets ahead of me.  It’s ok now, these days, for him to be a bit on his own.  He beats me to the house.  I arrive at the front door as he opens it from inside, a red ginger flower outstretched in his hand.  It’s the third flower he’s picked for me today.  I put it in an old glass honey jar.

We settle in for bed and read a chapter from Roald Dahl’s  “Danny the Champion of the World.”

Gotta love a Sunday with some windows.