s e v e n

She has a wildly, invaluable imagination. She is Junie B. and Romona Q. all bundled up in ONE. She's sassy and quick witted, and the unrivaled teacher of patience and tolerance. She knows one volume and speed. She's a lover of pickles, popsicles and everything purple. She dreams of being a jockey and rides her horse, Ginger (incognito as a rip-stick scooter) all hours of the day. She is my mini-me, I'm told, a hasty comfort to the sad and a greathearted gifter of love.

From Movies

A face tells a thousand words.

"Are ya kiddin', mom, really? The tradition is to MAKE a fun cake for our birthdays, and this sure isn't the rock n' roll, roller skate I chose and you promised to deliver!"

Well, mama tried, but let's be real, the cake decorating skills belong to Robert, and since he was too busy to assist, the skate was a flop and a sweet treat from Dairy Queen became the surrogate.

Nevertheless, she made a wish.

.....and something bout' her expression tells me she's inventive enough to know

the wish isn't contingent upon the cake.

And her hopes for one coming true,

are just the same.

For you, Miss Avery J, my spicy seven year old girl...

I'd walk to the moon.

xoxoxo

Mom

t r a d i t i o n

A Memorial Day tradition mobilized when we moved to the area, close enough to visit the grave sight of Bob's dad, who lost his battle to cancer when Bob was just six years old. Payton was a wee babe then. I have a pic. of the three of us standing just as we are presently, smiling behind the head stone. It's kind of surreal to see us now, how much we've grown as a family, and I'm not just speaking of size and numbers.

Bob's been out of town a lot in the last few weeks. In the midst of feeling empty and sad without him, I'm reminded how FULL he makes our world and grateful for his LOVE and fervor in constructing a good life for us.

From horse riding

I'm appreciative for this tradition he holds us to and what it teaches our children about remembering those who lived before, even those who fought and died for our freedom. It's favored by the kids, for sure, because afterwards we retire to the ranch where they take joy in Uncle Barry's horse rides.

From Collages

....and I don't think there's any place on earth, my horse lovin' girl would rather be.

It works out rather well for Bob and myself too, enjoying Aunt Phyllis's contagious, happy spirit, and devouring her delicious home made treats, like moist chocolate cupcakes smothered in buttery smooth, silky cocoa frosting.

....and I can't help but to wonder when I see Bob with his uncle, if his adoration for him stems a bit from the wonderment that Uncle Barry, being so close to his dad, is perhaps a little bit...

like he might have been.

Every time we pull out of town, and proceed to the open road, I turn and take a gander, one by one, of my sweet baby's faces. Sure makes me sad to think of leaving this life so young without my little crew, as Robert's dad did, but I know full well and have great faith in the "plan." I look out the window, not wanting Bob to see, and try to hide the moisture with my over sized shades, but my eyes take a swim as a picture of the back side of Danny's head stone rolls forward in my mind. Five children left behind, each with their name en graven perfectly in a formation of lineage on the course, gray stone. I take a moment, consider Bob and his siblings, and can't help but to think how proud their dad must be of each, and not for any other accomplishment more than that of....

the lives they've created with their families.