This was a nice weekend, although it sped past far too quickly.
This sounds funny, but what impressed me the most was the feeling that has returned to the air. There's a sense of springtime, of a new coat worn for the first time, of freshness. On more than a dozen occasions, a gust hit me just the right way, it would brush against my skin, I would breathe it in, and I would have to stop for a moment, pleased, and turn to Corb and say, "I love this day."
Oddly enough, I was in bed around midnight on Saturday, and I came across a quote from Maurice Sendak. "What I love is reading," he said. "And air. Air when at night you open up the window by your bed and the curtain lifts."
There was that, and there were so many other instances, too. The feel of warmth in the air and the sound of children as I left church for just a minute yesterday, to grab my cell phone. A cool burst of the remnants of winter that burst into my lungs as I walk to my car at the book store. And yes, the lonely romantic feel when the curtain lifts as you read in your bed late at night, the sound of the night air punctuated by a soft tickle of rain.
Easter dinner was heavenly. Corb contributed the ham, Josie contributed all the cooking, and I contributed a few bucks (not enough), and sat there and filled my face, surrounded by my loved ones. It was another burst of fresh air.