W A T C H
he would twice say, in a precise and perfectly enunciated fashion.
W A T C H.
& why I am back in Mr. R’s art class is absolutely beyond me, but there he is and here I am with those magical words strolling through my brain
& yep. It’s true. I CAN draw one heck of a stick person, but this is where my sketching/crafting abilities come to an abrupt halt with a yeah. seriously. STOP. But, hey !! I’ll hand me an A for Effort !! the older me encourages, ’cause try, I suppose, I did !! and oooooh, to step back in time to discover just how much or little, I really, truly tried.
As most mamas do, Mom adored our creative attempts, and believe this or not, handiwork from our youth still decorates a wall at the house sibs and I all called home.
I guess she (or Dad) never had the heart, so there this gathering of memories wait, anticipating the big toss. And I WILL, I whisper every, single time I trot down those basement stairs. One day, I will.
Grandsons get a kick when I uncover a relic from their Daddy or Aunties’ past.
And just why in the world I save like my mother, even as I up and down !! promise !! those adult children of mine, I AM sorting and shredding and eliminating. But priceless, it is, hearing the laughter, the eeeks !! the ughs, the WHY IS THIS STILL HERE ??!?? as we pause for that brief moment, take a delightful tumble into yesterday and acknowledge the road to how and who and where we are today
& thanks, Mom, I whisper as W A T C H finds it’s rightful place inside my heart.
W A T C H
🙂