CuppaGemma

Thomas built a trellis our front, so there is no doubt now from the neighbors that something must be transpiring tomorrow.

It was a nice afternoon, he and his friend Johnny assembled it, and in the way that only teenage boys can had fun doing it. The i-Pod was on, there were candy warheads turning tongues blue and a plan to get the arch to go and stay up.

They took the net lights like a jump rope and on the count of three (after the third try) got them to go up. Then Thomas took the roll of tulle and wrapped it all around. The boys even put up the flower garlands on the top. He drilled holes in bricks to support the base and then tied four lengths of tulle to the front fence and the porch. There is a white lantern in the middle.  You kind of can’t miss it.  It makes me smile that he wanted to set that up and make it just right.

The neighbors are smiling and the bagel store staff can’t believe it’s only been a year that we have been coming in there to get one black, one light and sweet and two sesame. But it’s nice. The retired men who chat there in the morning have complimented us on the house and keep telling me that Chris looks like a good man, and then are happy that I got someone. A certain generation prefers that women who raise children do not do so alone. It’s nice to hear how they cast it all.

The weather will be fine, all of our work is done. We’ve spent the past two weeks doing spring cleaning, so when we come home at the end of the week everything will be new, fresh and hopeful. Clutter, like that past has been put out by the curb- and the sani men have flung it all into their truck. We want today and tomorrow please.

We’re practical that way. And the boys see grownups can be fair and not harbor resentment like mold. Life just goes on and it’s more important to be nice to people.

We’ll pack our bag tonight, same satchel as always but now pants will accompany the dresses and a camera so we can show family our little week. I’m eager to have mom and dad pull up in the roadster and hear the horn. We’ll climb into the rumbleseat and try not to giggle too much.