Now, before I begin, it needs to be said that Honey is my niece, not that sweet, delicious nectar created by bees. (She got the nickname from her older sister who, at 18 months, couldn't pronounce "Marrissa" when her baby sister was born.)
Honey is now two years old.
This week as we were all on vacation together, Honey and I went down to the "mimin pool" (swimming pool).
Everyone else eventually joined us, but the best part was as we were sitting the the hot tub. The jets came on, and the bubbles began to form. "Bubbo!!!"
Honey was ecstatic as she sat on the steps and desperately tried to herd all the bubbles towards her. She scooped up handfuls and smeared them all over the front of her life jacket. "Bubbo! Bubbo on my mimin soop!!!" (bubbles on my swimming suit). Then she laughed. It was the most adorable giggle scream I've ever heard.
This went on and on. Every time she gathered more bubbles, she would call out to grandma, "Maama! Bubbo on my mimin soop!" and then that adorable laugh.
To Kristin: "Bubbo on my mimin soop!"
Again to me: "Bubbo on my mimin soop!"
Over and over. It never got old. She was perfectly content to sit there in the water, surrounded by bubbles, a giant smile on her face.
She was completely happy.
There are a lot of challenges in life. Stress, sickness, disappointments, pain. But life is beautiful.
As we get older, those stresses and trials seem to dominate our lives. Imagine the joy we would feel if we would only forget those things for a moment and let ourselves enjoy the bubbles.
Those simple joys are what make life worth living.
Wednesday, August 23, 2017
Sunday, August 13, 2017
You are my Sunshine
Today we visited my grandmother.
As we all sat and talked together in her living room, I aimlessly strummed on my week-old ukulele. I was suddenly seized by a desire to learn how to play one particular song.
The song was "You are my Sunshine," and it was a song my grandpa used to play on his guitar. It was the song we sang at his funeral. It is a song that reminds always reminds me of him.
I learned the chords during that visit, and as we prepared to leave, my grandmother showed me a box of guitar songbooks. "Here," she said, "These were your grandpa's. You can look through them and take some."
I gently sifted through the pages. Some were white and new, others yellow and creased with age. But they all belonged to my grandpa, and they were beautiful.
Choosing was an impossible task. Several contained ukulele chords, so I claimed those, in addition to several that did not. I couldn't resist. I clutched the pages to my chest as I thanked my grandma and walked to the car.
I felt as though I had a piece of Grandpa Charles there with me.
On one of the first pages I opened to, I found his song:
As we all sat and talked together in her living room, I aimlessly strummed on my week-old ukulele. I was suddenly seized by a desire to learn how to play one particular song.
The song was "You are my Sunshine," and it was a song my grandpa used to play on his guitar. It was the song we sang at his funeral. It is a song that reminds always reminds me of him.
I learned the chords during that visit, and as we prepared to leave, my grandmother showed me a box of guitar songbooks. "Here," she said, "These were your grandpa's. You can look through them and take some."
I gently sifted through the pages. Some were white and new, others yellow and creased with age. But they all belonged to my grandpa, and they were beautiful.
Choosing was an impossible task. Several contained ukulele chords, so I claimed those, in addition to several that did not. I couldn't resist. I clutched the pages to my chest as I thanked my grandma and walked to the car.
I felt as though I had a piece of Grandpa Charles there with me.
On one of the first pages I opened to, I found his song:
You are my sunshine, my only sunshine,
You make me happy when skies are gray.
You'll never know dear, how much I love you.
Please don't take my sunshine away.
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