Whenever it is one of my children’s birthday, I get out the family pictures.
Since they all have Facebook, I like to post a picture or two of them when they were little.
Sometimes I have one particular picture in mind.
Often, I have to go through many pictures in order to find just the right one.

That happened the other night before my oldest son’s birthday.
I thought I had a picture in mind.
I went to the boxes that are labeled by years.
I quickly became lost in the memories.

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I watched the bird fly above my daughter and I as we walked.
We had planned a shopping day and a lunch date.
It was a day at the outlets, looking for bargains.
It was a day of enjoying our time together and coming home with a few things.

As my daughter was ready to go into the store, I stopped.
I watched the bird perch on a small ledge in the ceiling.
There was a tiny gap between the ceiling and the wall just big enough for the small bird.
As I glanced up, I saw small pieces of twigs sticking out.

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I was in the store with the big bulls-eye.
I told myself that I didn’t need a shopping cart.
I was only going to get a few things.
That was a mistake because I was carrying my few things in a very uncomfortable way.

I had them in my arms just so.
One little unplanned bump into someone else and my few things would go flying.
I was walking carefully, heading to the cash registers.
I was determined not to stop for anything else as I walked along.

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When I go to bed after my husband, he is usually asleep when I enter our room.
I can maneuver quite well in the dark without bumping into anything.
I make my way over to our closet and turn on the light.
I get ready for bed in the soft glow of the closet light.

I am almost on autopilot as I walk to the closet.
I know the steps I need to take in order to get there.
The path is quite easy when there is a full moon.
The moonlight shines through the skylights in our bathroom, illuminating the way.

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We have all seen it.
The houses that still have Christmas decorations three months later.
The houses that were caught off guard when a snowfall delayed their plans.
Too much snow kept them from taking down the lights or the wreath on the highest eave.

What looks wonderful and appropriate during the season looks tired and worn now.
It looks out of place.
I feel certain sadness when I notice the wreath is brown and the shiny red balls are dull.
Tis the season is now another season; the former has passed, the latter is now in focus.

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It was a day to get together.
A day of reminiscing.
High school friends who reconnected after many years.
An intentional day on the calendar to assure that the time between visits is not too long.

We met at the place of gardens.
The place where spring can be enjoyed daily despite what the calendar says.
The place where tiny waterfalls and still ponds rejuvenate your spirit.
The place that smells like spring.

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One of my sons sucked his thumb as a little boy.
He not only sucked his thumb, he carried around a blanket.
It was not just one blanket he carried; it was variations of the same blanket.
I was always glad about that since it made washing the favorite blanket a bit easier.

Everywhere he went, his thumb and blanket were right there with him.
It was his built in comfort.
To me, the blanket became his trademark.
So much so, I called him my Linus.

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I enjoy the gas fireplace in our family room.
One click and the fire is ignited.
With multiple settings for both the flame and the fan, the heat given off is amazing.
It is the place to be in the winter.

Leaning against the raised hearth a corduroy bed rest is the favorite reading spot.
More often than not, the reader will soon be asleep next to the warm fire.
The fan brings the hot air back into the room, so it is energy efficient as well.
That alone sold my husband on its installation.

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I looked at my kitchen windowsill and was brought back in time.
I saw three little bears, made of clay smiling back at me.
They are there all the time, though I sometimes fail to notice them.
I remember when the bears were made.

My youngest daughter loved to do any kind of craft project.
She enjoyed making bears out of clay.
Blocks of colored clay were bought at the craft store.
She went to work designing bears for each of us.

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There is a thin coat of ice over everything.
Freezing rain fell during the night.
With the temperatures right below freezing, the ice was inevitable.
One look outside and you see a beautiful winter landscape ready to be put on canvas.

Icicles hang delicately from tree limbs.
A glaze of ice glistens on the walkway.
Everything is frozen in place.
Held down in position by the ice.

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