I spent my childhood years far away from where my grandparents, cousins, and other relatives lived. They were all congregated in a close-knit area of Illinois. Most years we would pack up the white Pontiac Station Wagon and travel across the country to visit them. Occasionally these trips were at Christmas, but most of the time we would go in the heat of summer. I remember stepping out of the car into the thick humidity and broiling heat. My hair would instantly kink and frizz, and my skin and clothes would become glued together by the heavy moisture in the air. When we entered my grandma Pearl’s sunroom, she always offered us a cold RC Cola, and the smell of freshly baked chocolate cake with brown sugar frosting filled my nose. My dislike for the heat and humidity melted away. We would wake up to heavy fog, the wetness of dew-covered grass, and the morning noises of animals we weren’t used to hearing at home. The mooing of the cows, the alarm of roosters, the orchestra of birds, and the background of silence you only hear when you are in the country. Days were filled with activities like collecting eggs from the chicken coop and fishing in the cattle pond. We were taught how to pick up the eggs and gently stack them in a basket. We learned how to guide the slow-moving cattle away with our long bamboo poles and we dodged the cow pies on the ground to get to our fishing hole. Evenings were for sharpening the end of sticks to roast hotdogs over the fire and cranking the ice cream freezer to make the perfect creamy delight to be served with the chocolate cake. But my favorite memory came after that. When it was dark the fireflies came out. We didn’t have these magical creatures where I lived. I was fascinated by how they circled the night flashing their magic lights like silent beacons signaling the others to flash back. My siblings and I would run to catch as many as possible to fill mason jars that became magic flashlights alive with the rhythm of the creatures inside. We would do this for hours until we were drenched with sweat, humidity, and laughter. I never wanted to stop. It was as if we were catching dreams, ideas, fantasies, and our imagination. Blending them together in one small jar caused an explosion of delight. What I don’t remember is what we did with them. Did we let them go to fly through the sky flashing their magic once again, or did we set the jar to the side where they unfortunately found their final resting place? I feel like this happens to all of us. In life we all have dreams, ideas, and fantasies. We imagine how they will all come together and create an amazing life – an explosion of delight. We capture them in our minds and our hearts. But too many times we forget what happened to them. They can escape into the ether to land with someone else who allows them to grow and flourish. Or they may be thrown to the side to suffocate and never be allowed to live. But a few, a tiny few, we feed and water and keep them alive. These dreams become our successes and accomplishments. And when they gather together over the years they create the magic beacons of our lives. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Pennie’s Life Lesson: Don’t forget where you put your dreams. Allow them to grow and flourish to create a life full of delight. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ YOUR TURN...
Share your thoughts and experiences relating to this post in a comment below. And please feel free to email me at: [email protected]. Thank you! ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ All Rights Reserved Copyright © 2013-2024 Pennie Hunt This was written and produced by Pennie Hunt. Feel free to forward and share this post. Please keep the entire message intact, including contact, logo, and copyright information. #CornerofSpiritandBrave #LoveYourLifeNoMatterWhat #JourneyThrough #PennieHunt #IAmGoodEnough #grief #Love #Joy #HowToBeHappy #Happincess
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AuthorThere is a certain magic about where I live both physically and spiritually – on the crossroads of Spirit and Brave. Archives
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