May
9
2012
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I never rode a school bus until high school.
During my elementary school years, I walked to and from school, or was driven.
It was too close for a bus to come and pick up the children in our neighborhood.
It was far enough away that it was a decent walk.
Not the proverbial…I walked miles in the snow…and the rain story that you tend to embellish when you are older.
But truly one mile from door to door.
May
7
2012
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I love to do laundry.
That may sound strange, but I really do!
I don’t like to iron, however.
I iron because it is necessary, but I do not enjoy doing it.
But laundry…that’s different!
We are all tall in our family, so consequently many things do not go in the dryer.
My husband hung nice racks in my laundry room so I could hang jeans, pants, dresses, shirts…anything that cannot, out of sheer necessity, shrink.
Apr
14
2012
You can set your watch by my daughter’s bus driver.
Every morning, without fail, she pulls up the street at 6:36.
I know, because I am out there, too.
My daughter is the only one that needs to be picked up at the bus stop.
It gives us a few extra minutes together.
After she gets on the bus, I set off on my morning walk.
Apr
2
2012
Posted in Heaven, Holy Week 2 Comments
IIf I was allowed one frivolous wish, I know exactly what it would be.
I would spend a day in an old house.
I would peruse the library shelves and linger over the many books.
I would gaze at the artwork, to see if I recognized some of the artists.
I would enjoy the photographs in old frames and imagine the story behind each one.
I would meander to the dining room and look at the china, glassware, and beautiful vases.
I would search for old quilts, wondering who made them; what material scraps were used.
I would admire the old furniture and study the wooden pieces.
I would think of which one I could ask my husband to make for me.
He…the engineer by trade; the woodworker by design.
Mar
27
2012
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Our husbands worked together.
We lived around the corner from each other.
A shortcut through the woods would get us to each others house.
They had three children and we had five.
Same school, same youth group, same circle of friends.
Mar
11
2012
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There is something so majestic about horses. Their warm breath billows out of their noses on a cold morning. I see them through the mist and wonder how their spindly legs hold all their weight. The post and rail fences, that form a rustic perimeter for them to graze in, beg to be broken through. How can such a delicate fence contain that much power? I love watching the horses get as close to the fence as they can with their heads reaching out into the road, yet never leaving the confines of their pasture.