Photo by my Dad.
So on Sunday, when I came home, I was reminded of one of the things I love most about having a party. It's how the house and garden feel after everyone has gone home. And though I missed the event itself, I have this to savor.
How do I describe it?
There is a feeling of lightness, and clear buoyancy in the air, and I relish it.
There is grass and sand walked throughout the house, and I don't care.
The whole house smells sweetly of woodsmoke, even the children's hair I cannot resist burying my nose in.
A mountain of bowls, dishes, coats, blankets, tents, lanterns, torches, drink and food, lie unclaimed.
Toys scattered about the garden.
Smoke still drifting from the fire-pit.
Photo by my Dad.
The echoes of friendly voices, laughter and conversation hang in the air. All those dear loved ones and friends who came and held my little family in their midst, and surrounded them in love and support.
Photo by Lisa.
Who allowed them to be okay, to celebrate, and to be happy.
And to be quiet when they needed to.
And then, later, the exuberance and jubilation of a good bonfire, combined with a gaggle of little friends to run wild with. How it does the heart good.
The sheer thrill of being out in the night air, and no one telling them to behave themselves. This is the time to be Wild Things and make a Rumpus!
This is their time, their making-memories time. And even though Sweet William has his own version of this year's midsummer, his own little journey, in the words of a friend, that for a short while veered away from us ever so slightly, it too is now a part of the thread of this beautiful life we are weaving together.
And these bright threads move and intertwine with one another so intricately, so delicately, that they are entangled resolutely, set fast to one another.
All these amazing people we have crossed paths with fortuitously, whose threads we now include in our weaving.
So grateful to be so favoured.
Thank you one and all. You know who you are.