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Safe

May 3, 2018

With the sun warming my back, the small blue bucket swings in my left hand while my son holds onto my right. He is holding the big white bucket that we will use to combine our gleaned treasures. The bushes are a bit wild this year, their care obviously set aside for more manageable tasks. But the berries are in abundance now, and this 6-week window of time is short.

 

 Photo by Jessica Ruscello on Unsplash

 

"Don't pick the green ones," I remind my son, as he takes a big handful of underripe blueberries, shoving them in his mouth.

"Ewww! Yucky!" he yells, obviously annoyed that I didn't give him the reminder a second earlier than I had.

 

The others are farther afield by now, some playing the hunter and others the defenders. They spend much of their time pretending to be animals; this environment is just right for their game.

 

The baby and I work in tandem, slowly filling our bucket. Plop. Plop. The sound muffles as more are added, layering the bottom of the bucket. I work slowly. The peace of this place surrounds and envelopes me like a blanket. My favorite blanket, the brown and green and red plaid one we've had since before we were married.

 

Yes, that is what this place feels like. Peace and Home.

 

Safe.

 

The safety in my heart is like a blueberry bucket. Each little piece added one at a time. There was a time in which my bucket was empty. As empty as that little blue bucket, freshly washed from the previous gleaner. The first few drops echoing loudly, shocking my system.

"Ewwww! Yucky!" my heart exclaimed. Those berries tasted tart and gritty. 

But with time, the sun warming the fruit, and the drops of safety felt sweet and right. 

 

A kind word. A non-judgmental glance. An understanding that I am okay, just the way I am.

 

My bucket is full.

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