PRESENTATION OUTLINE
There are no stories so touching, so meaningful as those of our children.
In a tiny nook children sit eating and laughing about childhood things, while elsewhere in the house—in the kitchen or at the big dining room table or in the living room—there are only adult things.
There are special breakfasts. Pancakes made to order for each grandkid made by Jammie before we woke up. Or sometimes we wake to the garage door opening and the dogs barking which can only mean one thing on weekend mornings. Donuts!
Beside us, the dogs' collars jingle as they sit waiting patiently for a bite of food to drop.
And if you are one of the kids in one of those chairs, and you cannot stop laughing, you will hear an adult holler, “That’s enough!” from another room. Which only makes everyone at the table erupt in more ruckus laughter.
There is art. Streaks of paint and glue and marker: blue, white, red, black. Artistic scars. When the house is quiet, you may hear something hit the floor. Listen: tink, tink, tink. Beads roll off the table and fall to the floor.
On holidays, materials will be spread out and shared to decorate something special. Gingerbread houses. Cupcakes. Cookies. Tiny fingers will sneak treats when they think no one is watching.
And, if you’re lucky, something is written that leaves its mark on the hearts of those who read it. Like Camryn’s letter to her dad. The markers big in her 5 year old hand as she writes her dad. Letter after letter reminding him that he is loved and missed. Always signed with the hope that he will come back because he’s already been in heaven longer than she can stand.
Later, the adults will wipe the spills and scrape the ick and pick up the beads that have escaped far beyond the ones little artists rescue. But only when they think your work for the day is done.
All around you at the small table in the nook are loud and crowded moments, extra chairs squeezed in so everyone can participate. There are quiet and isolated moments and hours spent creating or reading or writing. Memories…
