Banana Split

The past multiple weekends have been extremely busy, as have the recent several weeks.  This weekend was the very first in ages, it seems, for some actual downtime.  Herself was quite relieved not to have anything specific on the schedule.  Last night, she made a simple dinner for the Menfolk.  Afterward, banana splits -- for which there had been a craving -- were artfully constructed and contentedly consumed. It was so pleasant. Unhurried. Such an enjoyable change from the hubbub.

After the sun went down, they adjourned to the back yard.  There was a warm breeze and a few stars appeared despite the haziness of the evening.  Someone nearby was sending paper lanterns up into the sky; the lights would rise, glowing silently, until they flickered and ultimately disappeared.

Beloved Husband and Cherished Friend talked a bit about cars and engines and things; Herself listened, trying to organize new bits of information into the data she has collected during previous discussions about various vehicles.  (She is looking forward to the time when she has gathered sufficient knowledge to actively participate in such conversations.)  As she continued to relax for the first time in days and days and days, though, Herself found herself -- instead of hearing the content of their conversation -- listening to the cadence of their voices.  It was a small murmur back-and-forth, like water over stones in a brook near a campground. Or rather, like the quiet bubbling of a nascent River Lethe, washing away cares for those marvelous moments.   So soothing.

It was good.