I can remember the day he was born or at least I have a collage of feelings and images that have melded into memory. It was a warm September day and I was out on my bike along with much of the neighborhood. We were all tooling up and down Crabtree Lane, crisscrossing between driveways and each other. The sun was high in the bluest of Autumn skies when my father came driving home, top down in his red convertible, the blaring orchestral music filling the whole of us. Before that day our family was comprised of 3 boys and 2 girls, and I wished for months with fervent prayer to even the teams. I can still picture my father stepping out of his car, beaming with news of the latest son. I turned my wheels fast and headed down the block in defeat, but that sorrow was short lived, because when the bundle did finally arrive home, I was taken in by a kindred spirit.
After one week back in school, I thought it best to relax tonight and repost a favorite from 2016. I do hope you enjoy slipping back into memory with me. xxoo
Church was like my foot. It was always there and my mother made sure we were properly scrubbed up for the event. Nothing prevented our going. Even when my father announced that until the Catholics returned to Latin he would not attend mass, we did. Even when the entire hour became an uncomfortable ritual of handshakes and peace kisses, we went.
View original post 818 more words
August days keep us at the beach longer than planned and cause us to drive into the hills to find a cold mountain stream and even make biking into the dusk tremendous fun. Summer is at its best with corn on the table for dinner and peaches overflowing the breakfast bowl. August means loud and laughing people, salty and sandy bodies, breaking schedules and disrupting routines to make one big messy vacation that leaves you exhausted and smiling. For as long as I can remember August has centered around family, and thankfully, these last few weeks, that was exactly what this month brought.