Ms. B’s Thoughts

June 18, 2008-A day with Mark, Amy and Heather

Dead River Coffee House

Back together with good friends.  Our trip begins to a new location for an old local favorite.

Can we use this chair?  I say to the gentlemen sitting in the chair.  Certainly.  He looks up from his work and under his baseball cap I see familiar eyes and a smile from my childhood.  Hello!  I exclaim.  The smile broadens as he recognizes me too.  Not just high school classmates, but Skandia school alumni.  A tight knit group, bound by years of Little League, late night basketball games, motorbikes and skinny dipping. We exchange the usual pleasantries, and then ask more meaningful questions.  Marriage?  Not any more.  Kids—still good.  Who do you keep in touch with?  20 years ago who would have thought—we chat about Facebook and MySpace, emails, and upcoming reunions.  I am reminded that I am not the only one with changes—and not the only one who feels good about them.

Gallery-by Presque Isle

…I tell my stories.

How do you tell your stories?
Cozy blankets, snuggled deep.
Eyes bright.  Attention captured.
There was a little blue-eyed boy…a brown haired girl
living in Negaunee.
•    On Rock Street, Mom!
They had a little brother named Shane.
•    Shane—That’s you! The two point at one.
Grand adventures; exciting escapades.
•    What’s an escapade, Mom?
They liked to ride bikes, hike in the woods, catch tadpoles.
•    Did you feed the tadpoles, Mom?
•    Lettuce, they like lettuce, Beau.
Puzzles, books, drawings and playdough.
Dress-up, puppets, tic tac toe
Rain or shine they always had something to do.
•    Can we bring our umbrella to the store, Mom?
•    It thundered loud last night, Mama!
Never bored, the trio played, laughed and danced the days away.
•    Dance Party!  Let’s do a dance party, Mom!
Soaking in the tub, splashing the ceiling and walls
Dry them off, pull on the pj’s,
a few moments to jump on the bed
•    I can do tricks-really high jumps, Mom!
Then stories, always stories, before bed.
•    Don’t forget the lullabye, Mom!
Yes, stories, then lullabye’s before bed.
Tres amigos.  Siblings for certain, friends for sure.

I pause.  The end.

How do you tell your stories?

Tell it again.  Tell me another.

Not a book Mom—those other kind.
When you were a little girl-was I like you?
Did you like to jump rope?  Will my hair be curly like yours?
One time Uncle Sam took his bike apart-
Uncle Matt got stung by a bee,
You are a lefty like Uncle Roo.
Grandpa John cut his knee in the river.
Grandma was afraid to walk to school.

When I grow-up, when I get big, when I am older…

Family ties.

How do you tell your stories?