Three young boys were at my house last week.
They are all brothers.
There is one more brother who was not there since he had sports after school.
It is impossible to be two places at one time so that is why I was called.

These boys have spent quite a bit of time in our house.
Our house is home away from home to them.
As they get older in their elementary school years, they are involved in activities after school.
They swim and play lacrosse, which keeps them and their parents very busy.

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I had a forty-five minute drive.
I was enjoying the pretty day and the warm weather.
After a winter of snow, ice, and cold temperatures, the springlike weather was welcome.
My music was playing and I was singing along, tapping on the steering wheel at times.

I could see the stretch of road up ahead.
There is always a lot of traffic at this particular intersection.
Often when I come to this intersection, I turn right and go to visit my favorite Gardens.
This day I was going straight, since I had other things to do.

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I remember the first bouquet of flowers I received from my husband.
Except, he was not my husband then.
We went to all of our high school proms together; I received flowers then as well.
However, that is not the bouquet I mean.

I remember a bouquet that was delivered to my front door.
The flowers were for Valentine’s Day.
They came from a local florist.
We were in college at the time; me in Pennsylvania and my future husband in Georgia.

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I went food shopping a day early.
My usual day will be spent waiting for a new washer to be delivered.
Food shopping day has been the same day for my entire married life.
Only certain things will cause me to switch to another day.

It’s funny what we work around.
We have certain things on our calendar that repeat each week.
There’s nothing wrong with that.
However, if changing the routine is a problem, then we have to rethink our priorities.

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I was a few cars back but I saw him.
Three other cars were in front of me.
There was no place we could go.
We had to stay where we were.

I did not mind a bit.
It was as if I had a front row seat.
The whole thing made me smile.
I had a front row seat to joy.

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It was the day of the funeral of a special woman.
She was the mother of my dear friend.
The funeral was in Philadelphia.
My husband wanted to take me.

I wanted to be there for my friend.
I knew that I would probably not see her to talk to her or give her a hug.
I just hoped that she would see me.
I just hoped that there would be an unspoken word through a smile or glance.

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The mother of my dear friend just died.
She was 93 years old.
Some may say that because of her age, she has lived a full life.
They would be right.

However, full life or not, my friend’s mother will be missed.
She was a woman who I described lovingly as a little spitfire.
And little she was, especially next to my tall frame.
She was feisty, opinionated, funny, sharp as a tack, and she loved to sing.

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It was decided months ago.
My daughters and I would plan a mother-daughter trip.
Actually, it did not start out that way.
It started out to be a trip for sisters; the oldest and the youngest.

When my oldest daughter asked her sister where she would like to go, she said Nashville.
She picked that place without skipping a beat.
Do you want Mom to come? My oldest daughter asked her sister.
That would be fun, my youngest said.

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A goldfinch flew right by me when I was on my walk.
It caught me by surprise.
It thrilled me.
The bright yellow color of the feathers against the green leaves was so lovely.

I remember when we built a front porch on the house we lived in before this one.
I would sit on the porch swing and watch the birds at the bird feeder.
There were quite a few goldfinches that came to the feeder to eat the birdseed that was there.
I am not getting up off this swing until I see a goldfinch, I would say to myself.

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We hear the expression all the time.
We never take the time to ponder what it means.
The expression happened to be the impetus of a question.
The expression is: a lost art.

The question was: What are some lost arts that you wish came back or never left?
The answers fascinated me.
It was as if the question was the dividing line.
You were either on one side or the other depending on what you experienced in your life.

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