Another Dear Memory

Salutations Sweet Friends!

I was just recollecting the weekend's activities. We witnessed a whirlwind of meaningful events. Precious readers, sometimes I say to myself, "Dear Memory, please make a pretty scrapbook page of this in my mind." Life is an interrupted series of days isn't it. It is penetrated with joy and trespassed with pain. It is slow and purposeful and intensely speedy. I don't want to forget a single frame, but would rather store them in my head with pretty corners and lovely backgrounds.

So, please remember...

Sitting across from him, devouring Chinese food as "life" past and present, hovers over us, and we smile at each other and speak without talking,

hands rolling out rich, rolled sugar cookies in shapes of dinosaurs,

adapting Aunt Chick's royal icing to smother over cooled cookies and lay the foundation for sprinkles.

An old-fashioned fan used as adornment against blue frosted cupcakes with handmade, paper pin-wheels,

a commendable four-year old, starting a new year... his talented, skillful mother swallowing up memories of her own,

Best friends viewing a quirky, quick-witted little man hosting, "Taste of Home" in an air-conditioned auditorium, sharing a granola bar,

Teaching ten preschoolers to sing a song with hand motions and chasing ten preschoolers away from the street,

Enthralled by man-child inspecting a vehicle, (not a Match Box car) with his father,

grocery shopping with her and letting go of my discriminating low-price eye, for a time so that I could listen, monologue, connect, nurture, plan a menu...

She, behind the wheel, with that determined look on her face, not intimidated by its long bed or wide body, ready to drive a truck...

Blackberries bursting from cobbled top, oozing warm juice against Pyrex.

Chewing tough pork chops in good company...and chewing...

Watching Tangled and braiding strains of laughter,

Little man's impersonations, one-liners, and whimsical clamorings,

Thank you God for a weekend of memories.

What is in your scrapbook?


Warmly,
Alis