Last week, we were able to do a little garage-sale-ing with my sister and nephew. We met old friends and faces and meandered past the house where we spent our most remembered growing up years. My sister's snapshot of our childhood playhouse represents so much of our innocence and freedom. When I see it, I think of imaginations weaving tales together.
I remember my sister crouched on the stoop, engrossed in a book. I remember the chilly rainfall as the four of us puttered in there on rainy days. I remember parking my bike, Duchess, beside the nearby lilac bushes and dashing inside to cook a pretend meal on the ugly yellow stove that sat inside. I remember my first lessons on how to properly paint, as we repainted the side of the playhouse, each paid according to our effort and work ethic. Evidently, the painting lesson served me well. Meandering through one of my favorite small towns ever was a bright spot in a week that included some sadness too. A friend and former co-worker passed away after a long struggle with ALS. While attending a memorial is never high up on someone's list for weekend entertainment, I was so, so, SO grateful I was able to attend. Working with her when I was fresh out of high school, finding my way in the corporate world, appreciating all the wisdom of the Daily Dilbert, was something I enjoyed telling the Rugged Mountain Man about on the night I learned of her passing. I'm praying for Hope and comfort for her loved ones.
Here's hoping your spring days have some freedom this week, freedom to smile and say yes when your "young'uns" want to do an experiment. Freedom to nod when they ask for freezie pops. Freedom to push them on the swings or play cat's cradle. Freedom to smile and freedom to remember,
Dominique
