There's an old song that sings about 'carrying moonbeams home in a jar'. I've always loved that song because it was one my mother used to sing when she was happy. I'm going to put it on my request list for the next sing along which we just do around our house all the time. Which is not the truth. Most of our singing is done in our hearts. We love music and have had some rather talented, musical players in the family but Mom and I don't count ourselves along their company. The funny thing is - I like to hear Mom sing. I don't think she would say the same for me except for one night we were camped around the kitchen table playing rummy and I broke into, King of the Road and she had a surprised look on her face said -
You could sing. I mean you don't sound horrible. You can actually sing that song.
Let's just say the bar is set incredibly low when it comes to my singing abilities. And apparently King of the Road by Roger Miller is the beginning and end of my repertoire but at least I have one go to favorite. I am much more Cameron Diaz character in My Best Friends Wedding singing Karoke at horrible warbler levels. I have had some bad singing experiences (like my 6th grade teacher trying to get me to harmonize with the other girls for a performance and going DON'T YOU GET IT???? WHY DON'T YOU GET IT???? I think she ended up telling me to mouth the words and not sing.) and those kind of things kinda shut down your performance schedule for the next fifty years.
Thankfully if people try to shut me up from telling stories I don't pay attention to them and won't shut up if they ask me to. And I do this thing called RADIO where I talk some, interview others, and play great music. I do not sing along.
I could not sleep. Could. Not. I tried Valerian root, warm milk, reading, no blue screens, more blanket, less blanket, fresh air, not air. Just as I was falling asleep I'd think of something that would startle me awake. I thought I heard Mom calling me in a desperate way. I startled awake, got up to go downstairs to check on her. Nope. Just my imagination. I almost went to sleep again. Startled awake. Wondered if I had forgotten to pour water on the fire I had started outside earlier. Mom was in the swing and me in the chair and we were in catch up mode as she pointed out which flowers needed more water. (watering flowers is Mom's thing and she has the greenest thumb I've ever known. I have figured out I can grow plants that don't have flowers. Ferns and ivy's. And, really, who can ever have enough fern and ivy?) Soooo I said - we should have a fire. And I got the lighter fluid and kept tossing it on the wood and relighting it to the whoosh sound. Mama said - you are gonna set yourself on fire. And I said - no, I'm not. I just like the instant heat. And, by the time we were ready to come in the wood actually caught fire.
Startle awake because suddenly I swear I can smell smoke and if the fire restarted it could blow embers onto my car which would blow up and that would catch the house on fire . . . I put on my garden boots and stomp downstairs and out the door. There is no fire. There is mist hanging on the trees so there is that dripping sound that is just the wet of the night air. But the sky is cloudless, the stars are out. It smells clean and good and I think to my surprise, This is August in the deep south and I could camp tonight by a fire. Camping. Something I haven't done in a while that I miss. (I have a new mastermind camping plan that involves Vespa's, the Natchez Trace, and one great backpack. This is a new plan that was inspired by riding the greyhound bus for forty thousand hours and it's still in the making.) But right now I'm in the backyard and I'm amazed at the peace and the quiet and the light. I decide to go to the front porch to see the moon. So I go back in, lock up that door and go out the front door.
And there was the moon. Pushing to full. And I thought - OH, it's you. No wonder I'm not sleeping. Full moons have a waking effect on me. Even if I can't see them. Call it strange or wondrous or both but like an animal - I am aware. I looked at the moon and at the new lights compliments of Nashville electric that light up the driveway in the dark. The light spills gently through the leaves of the trees and It reminds me so much of Daddy's creek and the light doing the same. I am thankful for the comfort of them. And I stepped to the edge of the porch where it's open and looked up at the sky and there she was in all her glory. A moonbeam! At first I thought I was looking at the milky way but then I realized no, this is something different. This is light. It is - Moonlight. And, it is a moonlight moonbeam shooting over my house and into the sky. I have seen many thing but I have never seen anything exactly like this. It was worth not sleeping.
If I hadn't taken time to sit with Mom and visit a little late yesterday, I wouldn't have seen it. Because I wouldn't have started a fire. And I wouldn't have startled awake in the wee hours to stagger outside have asleep and be accosted by starlight and fresh air and that moon.
I am always amazed at the things in life that catch me unaware. The moments that seem wrapped in surprise. The ways that natural elements combine to create something I see for the very first time. Still. At this age. At any age.
I hope tonight I get some much needed rest. But if I startle awake, out come the boots. I'll make some tea and head to the porch, look up at the sky and sing Moonbeams softly into the night.
Wherever you are hope you are able to catch a sacred, magical moment of your own and carry it gently to bed and into your dreams.
This is a story of how we ate the best donut of our lives.
I'm in North Carolina visiting the Adorables. That's my beautiful grandaughters now age 15 and 10. Readers have followed the adventures of me road tripping every summer with the girls for years. Now I'm in NC with them and we have two weeks to stare at rain and come up with ideas of things to do. But something tiny and amazing seems to always happen. This visit for the first time I brought a member of the Wolf Pack with me. The five year old, Damon. All boy. On full out tilt all the waking hours of his days.
The Adorables spent the first few days getting over the shock of it. Last night they stopped trying to be nice and maintain all their manners. Sure they had rocked him and gave him a bottle and watched him take first steps - but now? He runs, the talks, the asked questions, and he keeps trying to sit next to them because he likes them. They are exhausted.
Keeping the kids or them keeping me I am always surprised at what the magic of being Zaza means. The way that it affects me. As Damon as asked me, "Are we still on our adventure?" Oh, yes I tell him. We are still on our adventure. That's what being a grandparent does. It adds a something extraordinary to the experience. Things I'm certain I tried to do with my children and did in the midst of homework and school rules and report cards. But one of the most amazing things I've learned is the lesson that they have taught me. The magic really does exist in the moment.
Damon and I chased three rainbows on our journey here from Nashville. Each was a celebration and the enthusiasm never waned. We discussed the colors, chased the pot of gold, watched it fade and grow stronger.
Nothing was ordinary. The corn in the fields. The red cars on the road. The clouds in the sky. The flowers on the roadside. The tunnels. Or the traffic jams which were the longest in the world.
A storm hit us so hard after dark that I could barely see how to find the exit off the interstate. I almost felt my way rather than drove to the only hotel available. I had planned just two more exits down to hit a Hampton Inn - interior doorways and all that - but I couldn't see in front of me. It was Days Inn or the car.
Once we made it to get a room - ON THE GROUND FLOOR PLEASE with a dashing five year old and sixteen bags in the storm - Damon declared he just LOVED our new bedroom. The cable didn't work. No matter. Everything was wonderful. There was a hidden fridge (empty) and a microwave. Surely we had hit the jackpot. A free breakfast with the most amazing things like CEREAL and juice. BUT nothing prepared us for what would happen here.
This particular trip is on an extremely tight budget. Not like some where we have seen Rock City so I have to be creative with my magic. But the first day I woke up with them I realized I lay in bed a moment trying to figure out my life when it hit me - Wait! I'm ZAZA. They made me ZAZA fifteen years ago by Ella's baby babble. And God has anointed me with the supernatural powers of all grandparents - to Carpe the Diem and make memories.
"Get up," I announced. "We are going to the bakery!" Don't lecture me about sugar and healthy eating. That's not my job. Not today anyway.
"Thank God," one of them said. As if another day of routine would be the end of civilization.
And new life was breathed into our routine. We decided that the bakery we should try was over in Surf City. The one that cooks your donut to order when you walk in the door. Yes, the hot sign is always on because they don't make it until you arrive. You can get a maple bacon or a death by chocolate or a thousand other original you make it up order.
I turned off the car in front of the store and said, "WAIT!" before we got out. "Do you realize guys that this could be it? This could be the moment we eat the absolute best donuts of our lives? Right here?"
Everyone paused. Could it be true? Could this be the moment in our lives that is just before us and will never return?
I went with the traditional glaze, ordered a cinnamon sugar for the wolf cub and the girls ordered crazy, original orders.
Yes, it was true. They were the best DONUTS OF OUR LIVES!
(I've been a huge fan of Dan-D-Donuts all of my school years in Panama City and it will always have a special place in my heart and part of my 'going home' routine.)
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