Happy Father's Day!

Happy Father's Day!

Reid, you mean the world to us!

~~~

Happy Father's Day, Daddy!!

My dad on the left and my Granddad on the right

with fish caught at the Chesapeake Bay in 1969.

~~~

~~~~~~~~~

Sounds

I'm sitting at my window at the end of a long, hard payroll day. My world is filled with sounds today. I hear the train whistle blowing, over and over, which is a sound I love. Everywhere we have lived, except our newest house, we have always been able to hear the train whistle. Once we lived in an apartment which was directly in front of the tracks. When my son was a toddler, he would stand at the back screen door and watch it go by.

Sirens are blaring from the streets below my third floor window. Everyday, it is the police or fire trucks. Usually on a false alarm when they are near our building, just for precautions sake. Or possibly for a wreck on a nearby hyway.

The parking lot below is full of downtown workers leaving for home. They talk together as they walk fast across the lots to get to the parking decks. We have extra people out today, protesters. Think I'll walk out the back door when I leave.

The cleaning ladies outside my closed door. The clock on the wall... ticking my life away. The pounding voice of the life I want and can't have.

My own inner voice rushing me out the door to all the duties I must attend to at home.

All the memories that I carry with me and can't seem to put away or outrun.

My friend telling me just today I should "work to live, and not live to work". Yes, sometimes I leave it all at work, and have nothing left over to carry home, or to take care of myself with.

My son's voice ringing in my ears for all the things he wants, and the things we won't give him, or faciltate for him. All the ways he compares himself to all those around him, who he thinks has a better life.

The soft calls of nature beckoning me to come back as soon as I can. The sounds I need to hear; birds calling in the trees, the babbling of the creeks, the leaves under my shoes, the rushing of the waterfall.

And, of course, the now familiar sound of raindrops.

~~~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Living The Dream!!!

Sweet Neil,

my first born,

my red head,

my fireball.

You reached your first major goal! You won the prize! You ran with honor! We are so proud of you!! Looking forward with anticipation to what you will become.

You are already soaring into this new world, full speed ahead. No one has more passion for their future than you do. We are amazed you have worked so hard. You are already

living the dream; soak it in and enjoy.

But remember, I love you for who you are!

************************************************************************

A Little Glimpse of Heaven

My oldest son, a senior in high school, was typing up some poetry for his friend whose computer was down. He happened to leave it up on the pc and I found it. Completely disrespecting their privacy (that falls under the “Do as I say, not as I do” rule), I read the screen. Something about this poem touched me and made me cry. I can only assume he was talking about memories of the good times and love he shared with his family before he became an independent teenager, that time of childhood innocence.

Perfection

Take me back to the place
Where time moved so slowly.
A time that was so perfect
That it easily could be mistaken for heaven.
A time so dear, yet so far away from me now.

Can I ever return?
Would it be the same to me now?
Though I realize I can never return,
I know that I will never forget the memories
Of my brief encounter of heaven.

By Chris Fishel

How well I remember my time of childhood innocence. A time without responsibilities, when I was the apple of my Father’s eye and all of my grandparents were still living. You are always extra special in your grandparent’s eyes.

Some years my dad would have a great big hot dog roast for my birthday and all my cousins would come over. My birthday is in the summer and we would have such a great time together playing in the sprinkler. I truly lived in the country then, with dirt roads, halter-tops, and barefeet all summer. The woods bordered 2 sides of our house and there were even chickens and horses behind us. We had ducks and dogs and all too frequently come upon snakes in the yard.

So yes, I can remember heaven on earth. I only hope my own children will recall there were some great times that nothing material will ever replace. All my grandparents are gone now, and my parents are far away –even detached from my present life. I’m hoping to find that perfect feeling again, even if it is only for a moment.

Thank you, Chris, for allowing me to post your poem, for pricking my hard heart and making me feel again, and remember the ones I loved long ago. It is still bringing tears to my eyes now. I’m so glad you also had heaven on earth.

~~~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~