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Tag Archives: imagination
After a relatively sleepless night dealing with coughs, colds, fevers, and a case of croup, the twins and I are settled in for the day. We received 3 or 4 inches of wet snow overnight. It’ll likely disappear by the end of the day, but there’s still several inches of frozen snow in the yard under the fresh stuff.
We decided to keep the twins home from pre-pre school this morning. So now it’s the three of us, home for the day. All of us are battling various levels of cough and congestion. To hear the coughs and see the eyes, you’d think this is a dreadful place to be.
Then the nearly four-year old voices speak. They speak in crackling, mildly hoarse voices broken by coughs and sneezes. At the moment, Theodore just had pulled on his shirt for the new day.
Jacqueline: “WHOA! Teddy that’s a really cool moose hunter shirt!”
Theodore: “That’s not a moose hunter sister. It’s just a moose. See?”
Jacqueline: “That sure is a neat moose shirt, you have there. I really like it.”
Theodore: “Thank you sister. I like this moose shirt.” (As he leaned in for an unrehearsed, but perfectly timed hug from his twin sister)
Off they went to their toy boxes. Coughing, sneezing, crackling away, but just doing what they do. Playing together and letting imagination rule the moment. In a room full of the sounds and signs of sickness, imaginations are quite healthy.
This is the spot where I used to stand. How I wish I could see it again as it was 30 years ago, the views, the fences, the lay of the land.
Minutes turned to hours here, even an afternoon. I would day-dream, swing a bat, or throw rocks. It always ended too soon.
The fence is gone and the road now paved. I miss the way it was, the cows, the dirt, the rocks, you know, back in the day.
I’d wait here to see Dad return from Al’s Diner in Mars Hill. The cloud of dust appeared a mile away and I’d hope there’d be a donut for me still.
The gullies are gone and the road is wider now. But I miss the rush of water from heavy rains or melting snow. Cleared by the grader’s plow.
I would play in the streams that might be gone the next day. The water wore away at the road, but in the trickle of water was a great place to play.
The pole on the other side was always my aim. From snowballs I’d pack, or stones I hit with an old bat, but mostly to throw rocks in one of my games.
I walked the line where the clover and the dirt met. And I spent hours out there letting my mind race, creating fun, wishing now never to forget.
I could see my uncle’s farm from here. And often times only the dog would beat me in announcing that someone was drawing near.
Behind me the tree was growing tall. The birds would holler. But often a brother or cousin would climb while those inside worried they’d fall.
This was my spot where I often played. This is where memories were made for me, and I could be there for hours, never afraid.
I drove out here before the service on Tuesday. I had only a moment, but I stopped and stood again in this place, I wish I could have stayed.
Maybe I was 12 years old, standing on a small sheet of ice, not much bigger than a couple of puddles strung together. I had boots on my feet because I didn’t own skates, but many days I skated like the wind. Nearby was a completely home-made hockey net. It wasn’t the right size, or even symmetrical. To me though, it was perfect, and the crease was the place where you entered the Hall of Fame. I had an old Sher-Wood hockey stick and a battered puck. If I didn’t have a puck, or had lost one, I used a frozen tennis ball. Continue reading
I was sitting in the office when I heard Theodore running down the hall saying, “Sister! Sister! Let’s go upstairs.” I looked over to see him race by me holding a small, toy cupcake. Jacqueline followed and addressed me as she passed by. “Dad”, she said, “this is my very beautiful flashlight”, while holding out a toy cupcake for me to see. She continued, “It’s black and white, and very beautiful.” I asked where they were going and Theodore answered, “We’re going upstairs to our room Dad. No messes Dad.” Jacqueline echoed, “No messes Dad, no drawers, no closets, Dad.” I laughed and said it was okay. They paused for a quick picture and then took off, up the stairs, with their little flashlights fashioned in their creative minds.