Walking down memories lane, hand in hand, side by side. This is what I did in my book "Little by Little...Side by Side." Well the last chapter has been written and published and now it is time to say good bye from our little farm down here by the creek.
I have to say that it has been very beneficial for me to go back in time and write these chapters. I am a little surprised it took me a year to do so, but my heart has fell in love all over again, for those good old neighbors, the doctors and Mr. Hanson, the pharmacist, the old hardware store and the country time elevator. My heart fell in love all over again for Burney, Marsh, and Corky, for Fritz 66, and the train that rumbled through our little hick town, disappearing around the bend and on into the distance. For my cousin Lyle, his little green house, his time at our table, and helping work the cattle. For our old farm truck, with its white hood and blue top, for Grandpa as he walked out that screen door, his old tin milk bucket swinging at his side, His high top lace up shoes untied, one pant leg tucked in a boot, one not. I can just hear that screen door bang. Grandma and her delicious goodies placed so carefully in those little brown lunch sacks with their tops folded down just right. Her lace apron tied around her waist.
I fell in love all over again with that little white trailer with its wide blue strip. Inside its walls held so many memories. That evening my new husband carried me over the threshold for the first time. The time we carried our first baby through its doors and placed him in his little crib. The time "Mark and I" sat there on those two chairs, holding our little pigs, trying to warm them up. Those first three little graves somewhere over there under that big hedge tree.
For just a little while, memories flooded my mind of "Mark and I" sitting in those chairs at the bank while Pete sat back in his big black one, of the huge loan and me holding that pen as I wrote my name there beside Marks. Our excitement of our first home, and bringing our baby daughter into our lives and hearts. Of Mark and I planting that little twig in the front yard that grew into the huge tree full of memories in itself.
The memories of that big yellow school bus when it pulled into our drive way, taking first our little boy, then our little girl, away and changing our lives forever. I could just hear those notes of "Pomp and Circumstance" as I wrote of that day our son grew up and our daughter became a woman. I shed a few tears in secret here on the couch, as I wrote about the day we packed up the car and headed to college.
Then I came to the last chapters of my book. The chapters of love....I call it. As I wrote them, I had a picture album spread out in front of me. Oh the many, many memories there are between those pages. I just relived those days when we watched, as first Bret took that step that took him into his world he now shares with his dear Emma. Then in his shadow followed Kate, in her pretty outdoors wedding. I felt my heart fall in love all over again for our dear Emma and Peter who came into our lives those beautiful days of yesteryear.
But now this is all memories. Beautiful memories. Left inside the cover of a book. Maybe someday one of our grandchildren will sit lazily in a swing on a summers day, one leg tucked under them, as they read about Grandpa and Grandma.
So I close that book. It is time to make new memories. Memories of grandchildren laughing and playing, driving the four wheeler with a little wagon hooked behind and laughter coming from two or three. Memories of little hands intertwined into our big, wrinkled ones. Memories of life as just the two of us once again, work side by side. Memories of wherever life takes us.
So I will continue writing on my blog and sharing with all of you, as things come into my heart and mind. Things about life, nature, happiness, pain, caring, loving.... I have to write. Its part of me. I have to share. That is part of me too. It doesn't mean that you have to read them, they are just there in case you want to.
I have some thank you's that are overdo. I want to thank my daughters for all the times they helped me. There was a lot, I'll tell you!! Editing every chapter, coming to my rescue when I sent a flying text saying "Something went wrong, my post didn't get on Facebook!" Making a new face on my blog...just because. I love both of them from the bottom of my heart, and there would not be a book if I hadn't had them!
Thank you so much to my dear husband who so willingly made hundreds of meals and sometimes ate alone so I could write. Thank you to him for standing beside me when words just wouldn't come and I would not know what to do. Thank you to him for being my best friend. I love him more now than ever.
And one of the most important thank you's goes to you who read my story. I can't tell you how often I just about gave up, but I would go into the blog and see that you had read that last chapter, so I knew I had to go on. I knew you were depending on me. Thank you for helping me to complete this book. Thank you for believing in me. You are my hero's.
I have to say that it has been very beneficial for me to go back in time and write these chapters. I am a little surprised it took me a year to do so, but my heart has fell in love all over again, for those good old neighbors, the doctors and Mr. Hanson, the pharmacist, the old hardware store and the country time elevator. My heart fell in love all over again for Burney, Marsh, and Corky, for Fritz 66, and the train that rumbled through our little hick town, disappearing around the bend and on into the distance. For my cousin Lyle, his little green house, his time at our table, and helping work the cattle. For our old farm truck, with its white hood and blue top, for Grandpa as he walked out that screen door, his old tin milk bucket swinging at his side, His high top lace up shoes untied, one pant leg tucked in a boot, one not. I can just hear that screen door bang. Grandma and her delicious goodies placed so carefully in those little brown lunch sacks with their tops folded down just right. Her lace apron tied around her waist.
I fell in love all over again with that little white trailer with its wide blue strip. Inside its walls held so many memories. That evening my new husband carried me over the threshold for the first time. The time we carried our first baby through its doors and placed him in his little crib. The time "Mark and I" sat there on those two chairs, holding our little pigs, trying to warm them up. Those first three little graves somewhere over there under that big hedge tree.
For just a little while, memories flooded my mind of "Mark and I" sitting in those chairs at the bank while Pete sat back in his big black one, of the huge loan and me holding that pen as I wrote my name there beside Marks. Our excitement of our first home, and bringing our baby daughter into our lives and hearts. Of Mark and I planting that little twig in the front yard that grew into the huge tree full of memories in itself.
The memories of that big yellow school bus when it pulled into our drive way, taking first our little boy, then our little girl, away and changing our lives forever. I could just hear those notes of "Pomp and Circumstance" as I wrote of that day our son grew up and our daughter became a woman. I shed a few tears in secret here on the couch, as I wrote about the day we packed up the car and headed to college.
Then I came to the last chapters of my book. The chapters of love....I call it. As I wrote them, I had a picture album spread out in front of me. Oh the many, many memories there are between those pages. I just relived those days when we watched, as first Bret took that step that took him into his world he now shares with his dear Emma. Then in his shadow followed Kate, in her pretty outdoors wedding. I felt my heart fall in love all over again for our dear Emma and Peter who came into our lives those beautiful days of yesteryear.
But now this is all memories. Beautiful memories. Left inside the cover of a book. Maybe someday one of our grandchildren will sit lazily in a swing on a summers day, one leg tucked under them, as they read about Grandpa and Grandma.
So I close that book. It is time to make new memories. Memories of grandchildren laughing and playing, driving the four wheeler with a little wagon hooked behind and laughter coming from two or three. Memories of little hands intertwined into our big, wrinkled ones. Memories of life as just the two of us once again, work side by side. Memories of wherever life takes us.
So I will continue writing on my blog and sharing with all of you, as things come into my heart and mind. Things about life, nature, happiness, pain, caring, loving.... I have to write. Its part of me. I have to share. That is part of me too. It doesn't mean that you have to read them, they are just there in case you want to.
I have some thank you's that are overdo. I want to thank my daughters for all the times they helped me. There was a lot, I'll tell you!! Editing every chapter, coming to my rescue when I sent a flying text saying "Something went wrong, my post didn't get on Facebook!" Making a new face on my blog...just because. I love both of them from the bottom of my heart, and there would not be a book if I hadn't had them!
Thank you so much to my dear husband who so willingly made hundreds of meals and sometimes ate alone so I could write. Thank you to him for standing beside me when words just wouldn't come and I would not know what to do. Thank you to him for being my best friend. I love him more now than ever.
And one of the most important thank you's goes to you who read my story. I can't tell you how often I just about gave up, but I would go into the blog and see that you had read that last chapter, so I knew I had to go on. I knew you were depending on me. Thank you for helping me to complete this book. Thank you for believing in me. You are my hero's.
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