This is summer

It is a summer afternoon...

Madi is curled up on the blue leather chair in the front room, her feet tucked under her, with a book in her hand. She doesn't answer when I call to her which makes me smile. She's too far away, swallowed whole by a good story.

Breakfast and lunch dishes fill the kitchen sink waiting patiently for me. A half eaten watermelon rests on the counter tilted on its side; bright pink juice puddles beneath it. I can still taste its sweetness on my lips.

I carry Baby C upstairs for her afternoon nap. She squirms in my arms as she reaches for her blanket. I kiss her cheek which is sticky with Popsicle. I brush her yellow curls away from her face and pull her shirt down over her wonderfully protruding belly.

The afternoon light squeezes past the edges of the window blind, and I pause for a moment in the artificially darkened room. Outside, Cicadas drone in rhythm as steady as lapping waves. I close my eyes and listen. Then I peek at Baby C who has already fallen asleep.

I nearly trip over the swimming towels strewn throughout the house like storm debris. T-man helps me gather and carry them to the basement. They smell of chlorine and Downy. T-man bends to push the last towel into the washer and as he does, his swimming trunks fall just enough to expose a perfect line of white skin at his waist. I'm surprised how tan he has become.

I hear thumps and thuds overhead and know that Leasie and Meya are dancing upstairs in my room. I'm sure it is a party of pink tutus, sequins, and fringe.

This chaos. This freedom. This nothing-importantness. This everythingness. This potentially forgettable moment of summer is exactly what I want to remember.