Last night was one of those nights. And they don’t happen often, but it was one of those idyllic nights where there were six little people running around the back yard. Their imaginations firing like the sparks of busy fireflies. No arguing. No tattling. No complaining. No crying. No requests for random household items like a stapler, spoons, candles, pipe cleaners, pom poms, or lemon juice – they usually come up with some stuff. And most impressive no pitiful faces begging for bathing suits and popsicles. They were quite content with the dirt, the toys that were already out there, and most importantly each other.

I was inside, catching glimpses of their merriment and mischief through the kitchen windows. I prepared a quick dinner, and kept it warm while trying to allow them to play as long as possible. I ironed school clothes for this morning and tried to get the house in order.

Chris cut shrubs and thoughtfully considered the best places to plant our new blueberry bushes (very excited about them though they don’t bear fruit until the third season). The birds that frequent our feeder lined our fence and whistled “Zippedy doo da” in perfect unison; all of our plants spontaneously burst into bloom, and there was world peace for that span of time – okay I’m getting a little carried away.

It was just such a nice evening. Simple. Nothing planned; it just happened. A gift.