The boys played. Their footsteps sinking into the impressions in the ground from the ones that ran there before them. Football, baseball, softball, chase. All the games we played on the same grass that lies there today. The gentle hill sloping toward the house is the same yet different. Grown trees fence their play. Years taller than they were when we matched their size. The same smell of burgers cooking on the grill.
So many things different. So many things remain the same.
My dad grabbed his welding mask (brilliant, if you ask me) and summoned us to the concrete patch at the top of the driveway. Its wrinkles as deep as some of ours. Crumbling around the edges but solid in the core.
It's just an eclipse.
An amazing thing of nature that happens so seldom in one's life. An amazing moment when just the right timing makes things appear so much more different.
We stood there. We waited, checking the moon and the sun ever so often. Watching it change before our eyes and missing the subtle changes while in conversation. We laughed. We were silent. We were being us and watching them be them. Playing, laughing, fighting, and squirming.
I didn't realize how much this little moment in time meant to me until I was inspired to write this post. Mainly because my sister snapped this picture of us. Unplanned, unposed, unknown. Us being us.
That day there was nothing special except the eclipse and us being together. No agenda. Living life the way we wanted to live. Fishing, talking, laughing, playing, some crying, arguing, little ones upset over dinner, but at the end of the day it's another special day.
Another special, cherished memory.
The lump in my throat is thanks to Galit and Alison once again. Another month of looking forward to inspiration like this for writing and for making the days ahead ones to really look forward to. Thank you, ladies.