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A quote: “Unhappy is he to whom the memories of childhood bring only fear and sadness.” ~~ H. P. Lovecraft
I’ll start with a story …
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He kneeled, brushing the leaves from the marker and set about cleaning the brass.
“I remember” he said out loud, “You taught me how to blow bubbles, sew a seam and how to draw Spiderman.”
He leaned back to look at his work, pleased the small brushes left the lettering and filigrees in sharp relief.
“Bro! I brought them!”
He looked over his shoulder to his sister trudging up the hill and smiled.
“I never doubted. I’m sure she’d love this.”
Sitting on the ground they opened a box of fresh-baked brownies next to the marker inscribed with “beloved grandmother”.
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Now, it’s your turn.
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. featured image copyright Darleen Click
I gotta tease you guys: You’re doing repeat posts now?
Then again, I missed posting on this one the first time so I’ll make up for it. -:-)
They were determined to see this through so I said that if anything happened that required a doctor, they were to tell me and they would not get in trouble.
I sat in the living room with a cup of coffee and tuned out the sounds of activity in the kitchen. The only help I gave was explaining the stove settings.
An hour later, we were eating the end result. It would not win any awards but it was the best birthday cake I’d ever had. I didn’t even mind how long it took for me to clean the mess.
Amanda pretended not to watch from the living room as Alastair and Sarah Jane worked in the kitchen. She’d really prefer that they’d waited another year or two, gained a little more maturity, but in the end she’d agreed upon a menu that wouldn’t involve risky small appliances like mixers and blenders. She really didn’t want a run to Emergency to mar her birthday.
As the afternoon progressed, she had to admit that yes, the smells filling the entire house were indeed mouth-watering. And when the table was set, she had to agree that the spread was pretty good for two tweens working unsupervised. To be sure, there were places where they could’ve done better, but now was the time for criticism. She had far too many memories of working so very had on a project, hoping for a tiny crumb of praise, and instead receiving a dressing-down for every flaw in her performance, no matter how minute.
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