when life gives you Leeks

I get a little crazy sometimes.

We came home from church today, and I wanted to be anywhere but home.  There's nothing wrong, I just wanted something different.  Something more connected and involved.  I wanted to hang out with a friend, let my kid play with other kids.  

Nope.  I tried a couple of friends, but quickly was discouraged.  People, it seems, make plans.  They don't tend to just be hanging around their houses, waiting for me to call or text.  Who knew?

So, when Small Son started in on the List of Wants, beginning with a new Lego set, I suggested we put all the Lego together and see what we could make.  Lightbulb.  Magic.

A good hour was spent snacking on clementines and the last of the salami.  We built two different castles, the second of which is still standing.  I was able to wander away and do some dishes, to start staring into the fridge and lamenting over dinner.  Small Son kept working on the castles.  

I settled into what has become more or less the Sunday routine.  Look in fridge and cupboard, make soup.  This week, it was leeks that really, really needed to be dealt with.  Son wandered into the kitchen, wanted to help, and washed most of the grit out of the leeks for me.  He peeled a couple of potatoes.  And he wandered away again.

I set up the bed tent in his room;  we downloaded another Sparkle audiobook.  There was peace.  I was in the kitchen, listening to an audiobook myself.  

By the time my wife came home from work, there was soup.  I was settled back into myself.  The house was a little bit overly leek-scented, but no matter.

Washing mud off the potatoes, I had a moment of thinking, what if it's okay to just be here?  To be at home, hanging out.  What if there is nothing more pressing, nothing more important to do, than to build a Lego castle and make soup and eat little oranges that smell like Winter?  

What if Now is okay?  

When life gives you leeks, pay attention.  Cut away the nice big green leaves at the top.  They aren't the part you want, no matter how pretty they are.  Cut off the roots.  Get rid of the slimy outer leaves.  Make soup.  Even if the child later says, "Ewwwww."  Even if everyone has already eaten.  Make the soup.  

The second castle.