Lazy Summer Days

My daughter, at this moment, lays upon the warm tiles on our deck, accompanied by her cousin, Daisy and two of her mates from school.

They have been swimming for the better part of the afternoon and each of them have rosy cheeks and ever darkening skin.

Right now, they are telling scary stories.  They are unaware of my presence, just a few feet away, unseen in our office, listening.  I marvel over the ease of their interactions; how they laugh unselfconsciously and how they resolve minor differences with kindness.

Their voices are a singsong punctuated with percussive, emphatic, bursts.  They squeal and encourage and sigh in large, dramatic, notes.  There is never a lull in conversation.  Everyone has go.  It's a gorgeous thing to witness.

These four girls hail from all over the globe and they have no idea that today, this perfect summer day, served up to us with a gentle southwestern breeze, will turn into one of those sweet memories that as adults, they'll recollect.  They may not recall the details, as those become fuzzy with age, but they will remember how the sunshine felt on their young skin and how fun it was to wile away a warm summer day, not a care in the world, with family and friends.

I wish I could communicate to them that they will never be more free than they are right now but then again, that would take away the magic of this moment.  So instead, I sit here and listen to their chatter, remembering those days from my youth that were filled with cousins, the beach, hand-formed clay mugs drying in the sun and fresh clams soaking in the bucket.