You’re such a good artist, the mother said to her little boy.
I watched him as he was drawing on the paper place mat.
He was so proud of himself as he wrote his name in large letters with a red crayon.
He was showing the server his artwork when she brought their food.

I’m a good artist, the little boy said confidently.
Yes, you are, the server answered.
Yes, he is, his mom agreed.
I have his wonderful drawings on our refrigerator, his mom added.

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I never saw the movie, The Horse Whisperer.
Yet.
That may have to be remedied.
I took the time to look up the book; I took the time to watch the movie trailer.

The story is about a man who is a horse trainer.
He has a remarkable way of understanding horses.
One line in the trailer stuck with me.
The dialog of the two main characters says it all.

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Each year before the fall comes, we get our propane fireplace cleaned and serviced.
The logs are removed and cleaned.
The gas jets are checked and cleaned.
The fireplace is turned on to make sure everything is working properly.

I enjoy scheduling that maintenance appointment.
Scheduling that appointment assures me that cold weather is on the way.
I love cold weather.
I equate turning on the fireplace with cozy nights by the fire, reading, and relaxing.

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I pass her every week as I walk by the customer service desk.
She is a whirl of motion.
She is quick and efficient at her job.
She has a loud voice and a demeanor that says she can handle anything.

I imagine that she is a formidable foe.
I have seen her no nonsense approach to things.
However, for whatever reason, I am the recipient of her kindness.
I am always greeted with a smile and a big hello as I walk by her.

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My granddaughter rolled over today.
My son-in-love sent a short video to all of us.
A milestone was captured.
A moment in time is now saved on my phone.

I admit that I have watched the video quite a few times.
I admit that I cheered along with Ella’s mommy and daddy.
I admit that I was urging my granddaughter on as I watched.
You can do it, I said to the video on my phone.

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I had just said the words to my daughter.
I love to find a penny on the ground.
I said those words to her as I was bending down to pick up a penny I saw.
Was it heads up, Mom? She asked me.

It was, I admitted.
There was the old wives tale about good luck if you found a penny that was heads up.
None of that interests me.
I simply like to find a penny as I walk along.

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I always see him tending to the shopping carts.
He is faithful to his job.
Rain or shine, hot or cold, he is there.
He always wears a hat on his head to protect him from the sun.

He will say hello if it is said to him first.
I cannot tell his age.
His height and appearance say one thing; his attitude says another.
This young man is like a child in many ways.

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Every morning of my vacation, I walked along the sound.
It was my favorite time of the day.
The wind along the sound blew my hair in all directions.
I loved standing against the railing and feel the wind on my face.

Along the quaint boardwalk, there were a few sections of shops.
I felt as if I was in some New England town rather than in the Outer Banks.
Places to sit with tables to sip a cup of coffee were empty that early in the morning.
There were flags along the railing in one particular section.

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The text came early in the morning.
It was from my son-in-love to the entire family.
Multiple times each day, someone sends something on the family text.
It is a fun way to stay connected.

Often, as I read a text, I find myself laughing out loud.
Whenever pictures are sent, I save them to my phone.
This text filled me with so much joy.
This text was a short video that my son-in-love took that morning.

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We all wait in lines at cash registers all the time.
It is interesting to look around and see what people do to pass the time.
Some are people watchers.
Some may read a magazine that is in a rack nearby.

Other people talk to those around them.
Many, if not most, are on their phones.
They are either scrolling through social media or having a conversation.
No one just stands and waits any more.

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