Here we are sitting at home on a Sunday night in July. Two oldest watching netflix way longer than they should. The littlest one has been asleep about two hours. She may wake about 1am. She may go a bit longer. Jamey is gone tonight on a deep sea fishing trip. Stephen will ask to sleep in my bed. I will say yes. Ansley will crawl in with us at some point too. I will probably end up on the couch with Molly James at some point - dream feeding and kicked out of my own bed by two little warm bodies who will be entwined with each other, the sheets, and several stuffed animals or baby dolls - Ansley always brings a few with her in the night as they surely can not be left alone in the top bunk.
My baby is three months old now. She turned three months while at the beach. Her fuzzy hair is growing in quickly now. Her smile comes quickly and envelopes her whole body. She tightens up her hands and arms, throws her head back and smiles with her whole being. She is our angel. A blessing and pure joy just as my other two are. Sometimes I feel as thought my heart will burst from the fullness I feel inside for them and for Jamey.
Our beach trip was 99.9% perfect. The .1% some of you know about. The short of it is that the people next to us behaved in such an appalling way, that we had to cut our trip short. I am not afraid to say that I am angry. I am angry at their arrogance, the horrid words they yelled and disregard for the ears and eyes of my children and the relaxation and peace my mom so very much deserved. I will be angry for a while. But I will get over it. I don't have the room or the time in my soul for that anger permanently.
I think perhaps a few of them next door felt an ounce of shame as we packed hurriedly to leave yesterday. Many of them disappeared into the house. But several grown men stayed shouting horrid things as we went up and down the stairs emptying the house is a desperate rush. Thankfully my children were gone with a sweet aunt by that point. And thankfully my husband has a better hold of his temper than I do....Their words echoed in my ears last night, but as the hours passed today, their words are growing more faint. I have asked God to take those echoes from me. I believe He has heard my prayer and I am thankful that the awful feeling in my chest is subsiding.
But I will say this, meanness and pure evil do exist. And are all the
more ugly when positioned next to the love and kindness and gentleness
that filled our beach house. My babies, my parents, my husband (truly, I
love this man more every day) - the laughter of friends and family that
came to visit - the good food - the brushing of a little girl's
sunkissed hair after a bath at night after a beach filled day, the grin of an impish little boy
who has swiped a sugar cookie from the table before dinner on the deck
overlooking a sunset on the water, the wide eyes of a three month old
angel who is grinning at her 78 year old Poppy who is singing old
country western songs to her with his low voice filled with love for his
tiniest grandchild. What filled our beach house is stronger than the meanness next door. What filled our beach house was a quiet that could not be stamped out by
the words and actions of those filled with hate and an extreme excess
of alcohol.
I am writing this post to get this out. But I am going to delete it at some point. Because those people will not be a part of the memories I have of this past week. It may take me a while, but eventually I will feel nothing but pity for such people. But for now, I am angry at them. And I am going to tuck myself in on the couch with two little people who are calling, "Mama, come lay with us." We will watch a silly show and we will laugh. And I will wake up tomorrow with the same love that has surrounded me always and that carried me through the weekend.
Love wins.
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