I love when I go to the mailbox and see that I received a package.
I especially love receiving a package when I have no idea what it could be.
I saw the white bubble mailer in the mailbox with the other mail.
I took it out and instantly recognized the address.

I had no idea what this sweet friend could be sending me.
I couldn’t wait to open it when I got inside.
I put the mail on the kitchen island.
I went over to my desk to get some scissors.

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Excitement was in the air.
The mood of the city was electric.
Everywhere you went, there was only one thing people would talk about.
Could this be the year?

Do we dare hope for something that has been out of our reach for so long?
There was something different about this year.
There was hope based on facts that were clearly seen over months of hard work.
There was hope that went beyond the hard work and determination.

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My youngest daughter just got back from California.
She is a senior in college and will be graduating in May.
Her college has something called a J-term, which takes place in the month of January.
J-term is one class that meets each day for an extended period of time.

Some students choose to travel abroad for their J-term.
Some students choose to stay on campus and take a class.
Some students, like my daughter, choose to go somewhere and serve.
No matter what you choose during J-term, the experience is wonderful.

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I saw it floating in the air.
White and billowy, it seemed to move so effortlessly.
I could not tell what it was, since I was much too far back.
However, as I continued on the road, it became clearer.

It was a large piece of plastic.
It was probably wrapped around something on the back of a truck.
It more than likely got loose as the truck traveled on the 55 mile per hour road.
Something was no longer wrapped; something decided it would rather dance.

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I had just left the ATM machine at the grocery store when I heard him.
He works in a custodial position in the store.
This day he was emptying the trash cans and adding new plastic liners in each.
He saw me and asked his question using, as taught to my children, an outside voice.

What book would you recommend for a child? he asked me loud enough for everyone to hear.
Did he realize how difficult that question was?
Did he know that I have far too many to even begin to list them?
I will meet you over there and we can talk, I said to him.

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No one in our family has a pickup truck.
That does not mean I cannot appreciate a nice looking truck when I see one.
I know that truck owners take pride in their trucks.
Their trucks haul things, tow things, and provide needed support on the road.

I was behind one such truck when I was driving.
It was white and seemed to have all the bells and whistles.
It had a trailer hitch on the back.
It had a large flatbed.

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I spent part of the morning in the attic.
I was looking for something that I found almost immediately.
But I stayed up there.
I was enjoying the memories.

We have sturdy pull-down ladder that allows us to go up to the attic.
I asked my husband to put a metal bar on the floor at the top of the attic opening.
When you leave the attic, you have to turn yourself around and come down backwards.
I wanted a strong bar for any of us to hold onto as we come down the ladder.

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I spent the day with my daughter-in-love.
We met in my favorite place of Amish buggies and farmland.
It happens to be one of her favorite places, too.
It is a halfway point between the two of us.

I had places I wanted to show her.
I had little shops I wanted to take her to see.
I wanted to take her to lunch as well.
We planned the day and put it on our calendars.

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I drove past the retention pond.
It was next to the parking lot near the outlets where I planned to do some shopping.
I pass it all the time but never really notice it.
However, this time I did.

The retention pond was doing exactly what it is supposed to do.
It captured the water run-off from the higher elevation areas.
The pond was filled with water.
It actually looked quite lovely with the sunlight dancing off the water.

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My morning ritual is the same throughout the summer.
Each day my plants must be watered.
I water the plants on the deck outside my kitchen and the plants out front in the old rusty gates.
Watering the plants on the side porch made me pause.

It is a sneak attack.
The memories that come on so strong you have to pay attention.
The memories that catch you off guard in a good way.
The memories that scream to be remembered.

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