on a midsummer's night.

Tonight I sat outside on the front porch and watched the sun set. It was still and peaceful and for some reason (possibly sleep deprivation) it made me feel like crying. Which I did. Some nights are just like that. And so I cried. I cried about the deep heartache my sister in law is going through, and for the passing of my aunt and how she won't be at any more family reunions. I cried because I wish I wouldn't worry so much about my kids.

Then I shed a few disappointed tears because we just found out it costs over six hundred dollars to get the electrical hooked up to the Landrover so we can pull a tent trailer to Zions. So. We won't be pulling a tent trailer to Zions, to sleep under the towering red cliffs and listen to the river breezes wandering through the tall cottonwoods.

We'll be sleeping in a posh hotel a mile away.

But I really wanted the tent trailer sleeping. Especially since my sisters are all doing it. And then I cried because Ashley and Eric and little Bostyn will be moving soon far, far away.

But I feel good now. And I really didn't feel all that bad while I was crying; it was more of a cleansing, peaceful tear-shedding. And as I listened to the birds chattering to each other in the growing trees and to Jimmy being a good brother to his sister over the phone and felt the soft summer breeze, I felt so thankful for my life's experiences.

I understand that the reason they can bring so much sadness is because they can also bring so much happiness. . . I wouldn't be so sad my sister was moving unless I had so many happy memories with them to miss. And so I am beginning to understand why there is opposition in all things. . . and can be thankful for it, because it is what allows me to fully understand and appreciate the good, beautiful and happy things. . .