The Message

He walks down the street; he looks late 50ish; he is balding; he is Caucasian; he is looking down so earnestly that he is almost bent over. This man has appeared it seems, from nowhere. Sitting on this street corner in my Ice Cream stand since early morning I have a clear view of the entire block, seeing everyone as they start down the block from the only entrance to it at the one end, the black iron gate at the edge of this dead end street. The gate is attached to a wrought iron fence which stretches across the street from the red brick building on the left to the three story building on the right and stops anything from going beyond the street end. Except for climbing over the eight foot fence there is only one way to gain access to the street; through the gate. There is also no access from either side because the buildings lining the street are all adjoining. This little enclosure is very private and quiet. I saw no one start down the street from either direction yet here he is; I'm just a stones toss away from being able to reach out and touch him. This community is small and the residents all know each other; I don't know this man; I have never seen him before.

Nearing my little stand I can get a better look at the face of this man. His wisdom shows; age written in slight wrinkles on his face. Still bent and looking down into his hands I can not make out what has him so captured, but the smile on his face in plain view is so very engaging and contagious.

Almost close enough to touch I glance away momentarily, open my mouth to speak to the man and find him gone when I turn back; unnerving to my feet-on-the-ground and straight forward tell-it-like-it-is disposition. The question would be 'where did he go?' and an immediate answer or explanation expected, without hesitation or excuse. There was no one to give me the answer I expected nor any explanation I could see for myself.

Ready to question myself about whether I did indeed see the man, I looked down to find in my open hands, a rose the beauty of which was beyond depiction with each petal perfectly formed and each a different hue. It glowed as though the sunshine was being held inside its small form. I could only stare as the rose seemed to encircle me in its folds with a warmth & peace I can't describe.

As I stared, a friend from the shop next door started towards my little stand. Looking up to greet her I said "Good morning; what a lovely day; have you ever seen anything so beautiful? (referring to and holding towards her, the rose in my hand). "What are you showing me?; I see nothing but your hands", she replied. Checking in my hands I could clearly see the rose still there. Glancing up once more, her look of puzzlement said she could not. Speechless, I smiled and placed the rose carefully in a safe place near my purse, walked over to the chair at the little table outside, motioned for her to sit and I joined her, wondering how I could ever explain the message I had just received..........

(Writing prompt - WWU)

Tell Me There is Time to Smell the Roses

I'm tired, tired, tired.

It seems to me........things just keep moving faster 'n faster and I just get behinder 'n behinder; the harder I try and the faster I go, the more I can't get done and the behinder I get.

What's up with that? Is it just me or does life just seem to keep speeding up? I have the very best intentions but there seems never enough time to get done what I have promised myself I will do........AND I feel so very tired. Perhaps it's just time I retired, I'm just not quite sure!

Some people say "you just need to be more organized"............well, I consider myself a pretty organized person so it isn't just a matter of getting more organized; it's more than that.

Working full time has always taken up a good portion of my day; my life. It seems now that even though it is taking up the same good portion of my day, my life, I have much less time left over to accomplish just the necessities not to mention those things I would 'like' to do. Thinking back to the years when my family was young, I worked, took classes, cooked meals, cleaned house, did laundry, cared for the kids, got the kids to their lessons etc, did the grocery shopping..........all with little help from my partner. Now I have no children to care for and a partner who helps with everything but it feels like I have no time to get the tasks done and no energy to do them if I did have the time. It's all very bewildering.

Taking time to smell the roses has taken on a more special meaning for me today than it had even yesterday. Intending to smell the roses is no longer good enough; it seems I must smell the roses as soon as I think of doing it or the opportunity is gone.......pooooooof gone in the blink of an eye.

Grand Babies

Those more precious than the the most rare of gems; your children. From your children a connection even more precious; your grandchildren. Grand babies filled a spot inside my heart I thought was full with my children. They add so much life; they make you feel young once more; there is nothing filled with more delight; they are on loan to us.......their youth in exchange for our age; they come at a period in life when you have more time to devote to their learning and growth; they accept and love us exactly as we are.

So many pictures gathered from being with my beautiful grandkids, fill my many volumes of memory books.........the joy is endless; not to say there were not difficult learning experiences as well because there were a few. I remember with love the day they were each born & how special & unique they each grew to be. I hear the little voices still that said "Grandma can I stay over tonight?".....or "Grandma can we bake cookies?".....or "Grandma will you tuck me in and read me a story?".....or the big bear hug that came with "Grandma I love you, see you in the morning time".....(the words will stay in my heart forever).......the giggles and belly laughs when we played............the total freedom of their wonderful innocence.

Today my oldest grandson towers over me yet I can still see the little baby I held in my arms; I can still feel the little hand that encircled my fingers as we walked together; the words are sharp as I hear him saying all those years ago "No drive crazy grandpa, No tip a little man over" and "Do I ever get to sit in the front seat? NO" or the day he fell asleep in his plate in the restaurant.......all precious memories & rays of sunshine.

A beautiful young woman now, my granddaughter no longer needs me to hold her hand across the street, but still needs the hand to hold as she matures. A little voice still rings clear as little feet pattered down the hall to my bedroom and climbed into my bed..........."Hi Grandma, it's wake up time". She was the only baby I knew at the time who loved salad......(not sure that I know any others now). With the biggest smile you could ever imagine she could always light up my day!.

My youngest grandbaby is a special little boy with a tender heart. He has found horses and will soon say goodbye to city life for a more simple way on the farm. I remember having him for a sleep over (not often though 'cause he liked to be with his mom), going to the movies and going for ice cream. He isn't like the other kids and that's what makes him special.

As the years pass and those precious little grand babies become adults, the special bond I share with my grandchildren only gets stronger.

There is no experience like being a grandma.