Month of Gratitude - Day 07

Prompt: What memory are you grateful for?


On difficult days, I have a memory I return to which always puts a little glow in my heart.

In April or May of 1994 north Idaho was having one of those glorious days with ideal weather. Temperatures in the 70s. Vivid blue skies interspersed with drifting white clouds. We had recently bought a queen-size air mattress. We blew it up and hauled it to the backyard lawn beneath the huge pine tree by the deck.

I plopped down on it with a book. Jeanne, 9 years old, dropped next to me on one side, Julie, 7 years old, on my other side. We read while soaking in the dappled sunlight on our backs. Jodie was 9 or 10 month old and played nearby. Every now and again she'd practice standing next to the deck stairs. Then she'd crawl over to the mattress and climb all over our legs and wedge in between me and one or the other of her sisters.

Dale was inside in the kitchen. I think he was making us lunch or prepping for our first BBQ of the season. He'd pop his head out the door every now and again to check on us.

I love that day for its simplicity. It was a gentle day with our little family enjoying our first Spring in our home in Post Falls. The girls were getting along. We were wrapped in the warmth of the sun and of each other's company. There are no photos, only memory snapshots.

Those days are long gone. The pine tree is gone. The deck a bit rickety. My daughters are grown, one raising a family of her own. The other two making their way in the world in careers of their choosing. Yet I can still feel them beside me as I watch them create their own memory snapshots.