There is something beautiful about clocks, but they seem to move so fast.
It’s true time speeds up with age, or maybe, we just speed up busyness and slow down awareness. I don’t know.
An early childhood memory is sitting still watching a wall clock and realizing that if you stare straight, stare straight and concentrate, you can see the minute hand move each second in the tiniest of tiny movements.
Not intentionally, I sit now staring at a clock deep in thought. Slowly an awareness of time dawns. Continue reading Swinging Pendulum
Sometimes it’s impossible to see past today. Sometimes, not.
During a little boy’s one year birthday party at a gymnasium, his kind-hearted, gracious, 76 year great-grandmother was chasing the toddler as he carried a basketball. He would throw it; she would retrieve it, just so he could throw again.
After a few minutes, he tired of the game and toddled off to something else on the other end where all the activity was.
Alone on the end of the basketball court, she picked up the basketball again and I assumed was about to put away. Instead, she bounced it several times while walking in her black dress pants, blouse and square heel black dress shoes. On the third bounce, the ball hit her shoe and rolled along the court toward the basketball goal.
As she walked toward the ball, something seemed very familiar in the way she reached down to pick it up. Continue reading Black and White Color
Somewhere in the forest of the mind, echoing between growth rings of the trees, laughter is held captive.
Over time it dies, or at least settles in the hard wood, and many don’t really remember laughter at all. We remember moments, the freedom, the feeling, not the laugh itself.
Laughter bubbles up from fresh water wells that runs deep in the soul. It spills over, runs across the ground, even the stony parts of the heart. If there is enough joy, the water rises soaking even the high, arid places of the heart allowing lush green fields of Spring grass to once again grow.
In its sincerest form, laughter is kind and gentle. It happens when the heart is full, safe, secure.
It’s the kind of laughter children have when wrestling the family pet, and to their delight, the dog plays back. It’s baby laughter when they first become old enough to respond to silly faces that cause hysterical laughter. It’s a toddler’s uncontrollable belly laugh in a fullness and purity that we adults often crave to experience again. Continue reading Laughter in the Mind
It’s official! The old 96 GMC pickup has been driven solo by all eight of my kids!
My Dad would be proud! Or maybe, just maybe, the floors of heaven opened up for just a minute so he could see Jessica, the last of my Mohicans, drive the truck he bought new before he died. In that case, it’s safe to say he IS proud!
It’s a wonder the ole white beast truck has survived at all! Clocking in at just under 200,000 miles, it has seen better days, but it’s still a solid truck. It’s just good to have solid metal surrounding a teenage driver, ya know? Even with no radio, air conditioning, fan blower and a tailgate that won’t open without a pair of pliers, the old fellow just putts along. And besides, who needs air conditioning in Texas anyway??
Continue reading The Old White Truck
Walking my oldest daughter down the aisle for her wedding was exhausting! Never mind the other 23,982 steps my Fitbit recorded that day. Most of the energy was used in the 25 to 30 steps walking down the aisle!
It’s a travesty, really. I mean, who came up with the rule that the dad has to walk his bride-to-be daughter down the aisle anyway? It’s not fair. It’s void of all decency of a civilized society! Continue reading The Longest Wedding Aisle, Ever
At a convenience store Subway the other day, an elderly woman sat down at a tall bar stool table inside. She wasn’t eating, but had a small Styrofoam cup of coffee in front of her that she wasn’t drinking. Her silver blue hair was perfect in every way and she was wearing her Sunday best dress, complete with a little pearl necklace and old fashioned block, black dress shoes. Her glasses seemed part of her face, like they had been sitting there for years. Continue reading Déjà Vu