W.O. #6 – Summer of 2024

So I have actually had this writing opportunity completed for almost two weeks now, but life is life. I am in Seattle having a mom chill, read and write, pretend I’m a city girl weekend. (I need to find a shorter name for that.)

In other news, I’m trying to hone in on my niche — short stories, YA novels, women’s devotionals/curriculum, comical informative non-fiction … ??? I may pop into a used bookstore later this afternoon to get some inspiration — or get sucked into a Target. Lord, lead me!

On to the writing!

Writing Opportunity #6: Five years in the future — where are you? In 500 words, write a scene of your life during the summer of 2024.

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“Why won’t he just cut the grass all at once?” Clint asked before taking in the last few sips of his room-temperature coffee by the kitchen window.

The back door whooshed open with Carter heaving for his life. Beads of perspiration glittered his red, patchy freckled face.

“Water … WATER!” he gurgled as he gestured towards the refrigerator.

Dia gave him a disgusted face, rolled her eyes, and delivered a bottle to him.

I heard the random jagged sound of an inexperienced wood cutter outside. “Where’s Cade? He was talking about blueprints and renovations earlier. Was he talking about the playhouse?” I questioned.

“He’s … he’s,” Carter tried to speak while his body was in cool down mode, “breaking down … the playhouse … something about … an engineering studio thing.”

“WHAT?!” Dia hollered while running out the door. Her long dark caramel curls becoming a cape as she hurried to stop the villain.

“She hasn’t played in there since last summer. Why get upset now?” Clint groaned knowing a battle was about to commence.

“Maybe we should referee this?” I reluctantly prepped myself and stepped toward the war zone. Clint sighed but followed. Carter came along because it, well, didn’t involve cutting grass.

As we walked across the backyard, I made a mental note to remind Carter that he’s mowing the grass, not vacuuming it. It looked rough.

“Dia, give me the saw back!” Cade growled while wood dust shook off the coarse waves of his hair.

Forgetting she was nine, Dia reverted to full-blown toddler mode, “This was my PLAYHOUSE! You ruined it with your stupid lab!”

“Engineering studio — it’s an engineering studio!” Cade yelled back. “You don’t even use it anymore!”

It was true, and Dia knew it. She just wanted to be a part of the renovation and add her touches, but the pangs of childhood nostalgia dig deep … especially when you’re not the baby anymore.

“I want to help,” a small voice piped up from behind Clint’s leg.

The three older kids looked at each other with growing smiles, then seriously at their parents, and finally down to Pea.

“I’m fine with that,” Carter quickly responded. Admittedly, his teenage schedule didn’t require his full attention to the project.

“Okay, Pea, we’ll find something for you,” Dia relented with the slumped shoulders of graceful surrender.

Now it was up to the project manager. “Fiiiiine,” Cade let out with his trademark laugh while his head rolled from side to side prompting a sudden feeling of sentimentality in me; it makes me thankful that they don’t grow out of everything.

“Come help me with the circuit board,” Cade continued while waving in Pea, “but Dia has to repaint the drafting desk.”

“What’s wrong with it being pink? How much repurposing are we doing? It’s fine the way it is,” Dia’s voice trailed off with Cade and Pea towards the playhouse.

Clint and I looked out into the yard and settled on the interaction of our four.

Carter came over with a pasted smile that made us know what was next.

“So, um, I was thinking … maybe you could finish cutting the –”

“Noooo!” we hollered in unison followed by a roar of laughter as the lawn mower started up again.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

If you know our family, you know that adoption has been something we have been interested in for a LONG time! With our time as poor seminary students and many, many moves, we honestly weren’t in a place of stability that a child coming from a sensitive, confusing family situation would need. I pray and hope as our family takes care of the upcoming transitions and spiritual and psychological needs of our kids that we eventually get to that place. Clint and I recently tried to plan out how that would work in our current space and logistics, and we laughed because we know God would handle it.

Oh, and our adopted child is named Pea in the story because I call my kids “Sweet Pea.” Mystery solved.

Until next time, enjoy the day, make a (small — yes, that’s okay) impact, and breathe in the possibilities.