The house painters arrived this morning at 8 a.m. and I could hear them whistling. Imagine -- whistling as you're going to work. It made me smile, even though I felt trapped inside with the windows masked. I can't whistle. I've never even been crazy about whistling, but this morning it sounded happy and carefree.
And speaking of happy and carefree, yesterday I watched Sam and Henry jump off the side of a boat, over and over, proud of the biggest splash, never getting enough. Water skiing was a piece o' cake for them. An exhibition of exhilarated freedom with dance moves, hand signals and what I imagine to be a feeling of power that comes with knowing the secret language of communicating with the boatmeister. What they didn't know was they were creating big memories for me and for them. It was a perfect summer day and if I could've whistled, I probably would have done so all the way home.