small things

Hello Moms. You do know that the Magic of Childhood rests ever so gently in your hands. It's true.  It doesn't take money and it doesn't take much time. Let yourself remember what thrilled you as a child. I bet it was the small things. 

My mother kept a bowl of polished rocks in the entrance hall. It was magical because she kept it full of water. Those shiny, wet rocks were every bit as alluring as a tank of tropical fish. On special nights she let me sleep with a her fur coat. Every now and again she would make us coffee floats after school. Oh, the danger and delight of that creamy grown up drink. She would serve them on a tray with beautiful napkins and a flower in a dish. So simple. But she did these things just for us, her children, for no good reason other than love. She tucked ceramic frogs around the bird bath, and filled small nooks in the yard with pansies. She put fresh flowers by our bed and sang to us. She cross stitched my name on my favorite shirt. A small thing.  

It's my turn now. These are little things. I believe in little things. They fit together and add up.  A child, large or small, only knows that they feel special and that they are cherished. That's a big thing.  

We live in a fast, fast world. It's sad to see the bright light of childhood hooded with all these silly electronic devices that primarily serve to isolate, and the drone of a near constant media barrage. That's another post that I'm not sure you want to read. But now, more than ever, maybe, I wish for my children the small magic revealed in a pat of bright green moss just off the trail, or a glass heart with the morning granola. 

Mom holds the key. (Dad has another set of keys, that are wildly important.) And aren't we lucky? Tom Robbins said, "It's never too late to have a happy childhood." 

I've already had one. Thanks Mom. I'm shooting for three more.