Grass Stains
The day the ground hog provides us with a weather statement. . . The children laugh at the thought of a little furry creature predicting the weather as they turn tumbles through the grass and climb trees with bare toes.
Bath time reveals grass stains on knees and elbows.
The sun sparkles in the sky and warms us deep.
There are stories about record cold temperatures in France and Greece. Snow is covering ancient temples and the Danube freezes. People are not waking from their sleep in Bulgaria and we wake barefoot.
They were grumpy when they woke up. I thought that I wasn't grumpy, but I wasn't dancing or singing the way George does when he wakes even after writing late into the night.
What would George do?
The children and I are in Charlotte with my mom. George is at home writing and writing some more. I miss him. I don't say to him enough that his presence changes us.
I grab Amelia's hands and make the sunshine and start to sing, "Oh let the sunshine in, face it with a grin. . . " She smiles and dances right away and she is changed. She is the sunny girl that lights up with daddy every morning. A gift he gives that goes unrecognized until we miss it.
The Light of the world lives in me and I fail often to let it shine, to let the warmth fill from inside so as to not freeze the little children when they reach out to touch and recieve from this mother shell.
Tonight, when the day is done, I hope to find grass stains on my knees!
Bath time reveals grass stains on knees and elbows.
The sun sparkles in the sky and warms us deep.
There are stories about record cold temperatures in France and Greece. Snow is covering ancient temples and the Danube freezes. People are not waking from their sleep in Bulgaria and we wake barefoot.
They were grumpy when they woke up. I thought that I wasn't grumpy, but I wasn't dancing or singing the way George does when he wakes even after writing late into the night.
What would George do?
The children and I are in Charlotte with my mom. George is at home writing and writing some more. I miss him. I don't say to him enough that his presence changes us.
I grab Amelia's hands and make the sunshine and start to sing, "Oh let the sunshine in, face it with a grin. . . " She smiles and dances right away and she is changed. She is the sunny girl that lights up with daddy every morning. A gift he gives that goes unrecognized until we miss it.
The Light of the world lives in me and I fail often to let it shine, to let the warmth fill from inside so as to not freeze the little children when they reach out to touch and recieve from this mother shell.
Tonight, when the day is done, I hope to find grass stains on my knees!
Comments
Post a Comment