{quietly} the last ten minutes

The last ten minutes before I stop what I'm doing for the day to gather my little ones from the bus pick up are sometimes the most delicious. 

For ten minutes is the most important minute of my day. Every minute every minute. 

Sometimes, it doesn't matter how actively "here" I am during the day, 

the final last ten minutes becomes so precious. 

Not that the homecoming of my babes is precious. But it's a shift and change. The air changes in those moments between walking to the bus stop and coming home again. The light is different. And in these early Spring days, the light is still fading quickly. And the pent-up energy of my little ones overwhelms our tiny house and gobbles up our afternoon.

So. here right now. 

moment moment moment. 

The creaking of tree branches against each other. 

Those tall white-trunked gums along our hill side. 

The wind sweeping through the gums.camphor.rainforest - 

rustling and swirling leaves up higher than me. 

The windchime calling in tune to the wind. Singing to me night and day.

Making me think of 

my mama, 

for some reason or other.

And the birds always the birds calling and chirping and enjoying.

The last golden hours of sunshine on the new growth of the tiny persimmon tree. 

The big tree beside it with only the beginnings of the new growth. 

Glowing I tell you. 

That fresh green leaf tip in the afternoon sun. 

The taste of my cup of tea. The ceramic on my lips. The water on my tongue. 

The breeze upon my cheeks. The sunshine on my eyelids.

The soft, 

ever so soft, 

movement from the mossy branches of the tall hoop pine beside me. 

That giant tree of massive peace and steady calm filled with so much everything. 

                  In these moments. 

                            These last ten minutes. Everything is here. I am here.                                                  

I am nowhere. I am lost and found. 

And I breathe.