And so it starts

Two weeks ago, I had to pull my potted plants in off my back porch because we had a freeze warning. Today, the heat index is 95 degrees! Maybe summer will come and go quickly and we can sit out July and August in relative ease. You think?

I want to know: Reader Survey

1. How often do you read my blog?
2. What posts do you enjoy the most? Random thoughts, family musings, nostalgia, devotions, crafts, my writing?
3. What would you like to see in my blog?
4. Anything else you want to tell me?

Do birds have eyes?

I sat at the kitchen table swinging my legs and watching her. She perched on one foot with the other propped against her leg just below the knee. I could hear the chop of the knife and smell the onions, but all I could see was her back.

Crossing the room and standing beside her, I tried to balance myself in her flamingo stance but almost toppled. She never glanced my way. My face barely cleared the counter so I tiptoed to watch her cut the onion. The knife moved effortlessly always stopping within a hair’s breadth of her hands. I craned my neck to watch her face, but she was finished with the task and moved on.

This is like so many memories of her. I remember her actions. I remember her words. I don’t remember looking her in the face. She was beside me. She was in front of me. She was behind me. I think I was thirty before we ever talked face to face.

More than ten years after she closed her eyes the last time, I cherish those few memories that include those eyes— the crow’s feet of smiles, the shadow of worry, the glimmer of pride.

I try to look people in the eye—especially my children and my grandchildren. I want them to remember my soul, not just my actions or words.