It was an odd thing to say.
I can still see the faces of my children who were in the kitchen at the time.
One of them was asking me a question from across the room.
I told them to wait a minute before continuing.

I had taken my glasses off to read something.
I needed to go over to my desk in order to put my glasses back on.
I asked the questioner to repeat the question.
The question was repeated but not before asking another one.

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We honeymooned in Mexico.
On an October day, thirty-five years ago, our plane landed in Mexico City.
A few day later we traveled southwest to the city of Taxco.
Taxco is famous for its silver jewelry and its Spanish colonial architecture.

After Taxco, we went to Acapulco.
Neither my husband or I are the kind of people who enjoy day after day at the beach.
Perhaps it is our Irish skin that burns far to easily.
Perhaps it is our need to see things rather than just lay on the beach all day.

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It is now officially spring.
My husband and our oldest daughter have birthdays that are exactly one week apart.
His birthday falls in the winter.
Her birthday falls in the spring.

The difference a week makes.
The weather has been true to the familiar poem.
March comes in like a lion and goes out like a lamb.
The lion is still showing its teeth a bit.

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I always did well in school but I was never a great test taker.
I secretly wished that there were other ways to show what I knew on any given topic.
It was the apprehension of the test that was the problem for me.
I knew the material; it was just the method of finding out what I knew that I did not like.

My mother was a wonderful help to me.
She would quiz me on things.
She would go over my spelling words.
She would make me write things over if it was not done in my best penmanship.

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There was a wonderful hill near my house in the neighborhood where I grew up.
It was the hill where everyone went sledding.
From an upstairs window in my house, I could see the hill clearly.
I could see if anyone was already sledding.

That hill seemed to call to most everyone in the neighborhood.
It was the hill where you could sled down with two people on the sled.
It was the hill where I first had the courage to go down the hill head first on my sled.
I would never do that now but back then it was thrilling.

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I saw her on my walk.
There was no school that day so all the school aged children were home.
It was early morning and I wondered why if given the chance, she wouldn’t sleep late.
I decided that there must be some school-aged biological clock that woke her at the usual time.

She was holding something in her hand.
I waved to her.
She awkwardly waved back with the object she was holding.
I knew that posture.

She was holding her cellphone.

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It caught my eye as I was leaving the row of shops.
My oldest daughter was just a toddler.
She carried a teddy bear around with her everywhere.
It was the teddy bear that people confused with a stuffed monkey because it had long arms.

My daughter liked everything that had teddy bears on it.
So when I saw it, I knew I had to stop and look.
There it was sitting on a high shelf in a country store.
I wasn’t even sure it was for sale; I thought perhaps it was on the shelf for decoration.

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He used to walk around the neighborhood when it was a nice day.
He was an older man, always dressed as a gentleman.
He was never sloppy, never too casual.
It was as if his walk was an important appointment that he must keep.

I would see him and wave.
If he was wearing a hat, he would tip it in my direction.
He would always return the wave with his free hand.
In the other hand, he carried a walking stick.

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She was five years old when she came home from school with the form.
It was a permission slip to pay T-ball.
She was the oldest of three children, with two more children to arrive a few years later.
I had never had anyone ask to play sports before.

We filled out the permission slip, which included all of her information.
Her birthday, which is in early spring, had a T-ball glove on her list.
Getting the glove was my husband’s department.
I did not know the first thing about any type of sports equipment.

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Port Barre Elementary School in Port Barre, Louisiana has a story to tell.
This school has an amazing principal.
It is not so much the way he leads his school as much as the way he got to lead his school.
Port Barre Elementary School’s principal is the quintessential role model to his students.

Joseph “Gabe” Sonnier planned to go to college right after high school.
However, when his parents separated, he knew that his mother needed help paying the bills.
Gabe Sonnier’s mother was a housekeeper.
Her pay was not enough to make ends meet.

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