Dear Lizzie... (12)

Dear Lizzie,
Light streams in through familiar windows. The planks of wood you knew so well have quietly laid in state with various degrees of covering. Now, after years of waiting they soak up light and warming rays. It's beautiful, Lizzie. I'm smiling at it as I picture you crossing the threshold hundreds of times. The light looked just this way, too. I am seeing it as you saw it. Your eyes viewed out the same window. While not the same view, I am reveling in the shared experiences.
Something that was just common and practical for you, these floors. I have the luxury of viewing them along with their history and age - therefore they fascinate me.
I will be covering them back up again. But I will know they are there, safe and protected. Even though the light will fall on a new surface it will be it's old shape and I will be reminded.

Yours Truly,
Charity

Dear Lizzie... (11)

Dear Lizzie,
It's been awhile - I've been busy. Between house work (chores) and house work (rehabbing the homestead home), homeschooling, rearing young, and all other activities I need to get accomplished in a day I have precious little free time. I am a bit worn thin, but not complaining, because for now I would have it no other way. Pealing back these layers of history and repainting it with my personality has been a fulfilling project. I am even undeterred by the wild things we have found under floors, in walls, and the ceiling.
I have three wild boys and a little princess who will soon live in those walls, walk on those floors, and stare up at those ceilings. I think you would love them if you could meet them. They have some of your blood in their veins, and Claire shares your name - Claire Elizabeth. The boys have the wild fiery spirits that make them perfect for farm life. Claire loves to be outside and has no worries about eating rocks and dirt one moment, and stroking the back of a doll lovingly the next. She is strong and knows who she is even at a tender eighteen months.
I would love it if I could go back in time and see you as a mother in action. You are the real, original super mom. No cell phone, no washing machine, no running water, no pre-packaged food, no TV!!, no bleach, no neosporin, no chocolate, no ten-pack socks, no motrin, no movie night - I'm stopping there. I am overwhelmed. You showed up at that house and changed it from house to home overnight with little ones on your knees. Thank you for spurring me on to be a better mom. I will try to honor your memory as I raise my own brood among the whispers of past history.
When we are all done with this work and settled in, you should come over for tea. It would be fun.
Yours Truly,
Charity

Do you ever go so long without something that you forget it? Forget that it's good?
I stepped out of the YMCA tonight with Levi and Noah after their Taekwondo class and smelled it. Moisture in the air. It was unexpected and I was surprised at how wonderful it smelled. I could see the droplets in beams from parking lot lights and car headlights. A fog had settled in, wrapping everything in its soft fuzziness. It hit me that in winter you don't ever smell moisture in the air because it is usually so dry. All the precipitation is frozen and therefore has no smell.
I am not a cold weather person and am currently in a desperate yearning for spring. The smell of that air full of water was laden with hope. Hope of green and warm and new again. It was still cold - at least for me. But the mist was a sign that winters hold will soon be loosed and therefore its desert feel will give way to moist new life.
I was glad to be reminded.