A Smile to Remember

A Smile to remember

Dear Lady, 

I do not know your name, but I love your face. I met you at the festival in town and I said hello and you reached and touched my arm. You talked and I listened. I think we need to listen to older people as much as we can. You have so much to share.

• You are surely much wiser than I.
• You have experienced more of life and you are still smiling.
• You care enough to give meaningful advice, even if you think the younger generation might not like you for it at present moment.
• You aren't afraid to speak out about what you have learned the hard way.
• You probably had more and much better education––even if you only went to school through sixth grade.
• You were likely raised fearlessly by parents who were willing to provide loving discipline.
• You were raised in an era when morals and ethics were not optional or questioned.
• You have already walked miles and more miles in my shoes.

Thank you, Dear Lady, for allowing me to take your photograph and for the touch you gave to my day.

Love ya, 

Elece

Home?

Dear Home,
     
        Where have you been? I haven't seen you in a while. I thought I knew you. How you have changed.

Home was where I sat by the window watching birds. Now I watch children run and play. Now I set meals on the table 3 meals a day for little mouths instead of filling feeders for little sparrows and cardinals and nuthatches.

Now my empty rooms are noisy and messy rather than neat and orderly. I don't know what to expect. Four of my grandkids have come to live here with us. They need home more than I do. Home has been stolen from them.

I fuss and I carry on but Home, you know I love the music of their voices, the sound of their footsteps on the stairs, their splashes in the bath, their cuddles and kisses. You know I love the mothering I get to do once again. You know I want them here with me.

My privacy, my peace has been shattered, but one day when they are gone I will have much more than I want of that.

Home, let's decide to open wide our arms and to taste and ingest every morsel of fun and laughter and chaos and joy to remember later–– to find on another silent day–– to hold forever.

Love ya,

Elece