Posts Tagged ‘children’

How many years does it take for children’s songs to fade from your brain?  The answer seems to be an infinite number, so choose those songs carefully!  Our girls loved Sharon, Lois, and Bram and one of the songs they sang comes from Burl Ives and before him from folk song history.  It’s called “Lavender Blue” and the lyrics and lovely melody SL&B sang have been in my head all these years.  It inspired the title of this week’s story.

If you’re new to Friday Fictioneers, each week on Wednesday, a number of addicted writers wait with great anticipation for the photo prompt selected by our hostess-with-the-most-ess, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.  We then cudgel our brains a/o wait for the muse to strike us (hard), then craft our stories for the week with the best hundred words we can choose.  If you’d like read more stories, click on the little blue guy at the end of my story, sit back, and enjoy. Feel free to “like” and comment too. We writers love interaction with our readers. And if you’d like to join, the door’s always open.

 

copyright Sandra Cook

copyright Sandra Cook

Lavender Blue

Lavender perfumes the patio where we linger over déjeuner with local wine, basking in the sun, relishing food chosen at the village market.

Once children are gone, it’s time to move on.  We took “move” literally, leaving the town where we’d lived and had a child.  Choosing Provence had been easy, finding the house more difficult. This house attracted us with its quirky sculpture. It remains a now-bearable reminder of the tricycle David was riding when the drunk driver’s car jumped the curb, hitting him as he joyously wheeled along the sidewalk.

Lavender perfumes the urn tucked in the garden.

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Lavender Blue
(
Sharon, Lois and Bram)

 Lavender’s blue
Dilly dilly
Lavender’s green
If I were king
Dilly dilly
You’d be my queen

Who told you so
Dilly dilly
Who told you so
I told myself
Dilly dilly
I told me so

I may have inherited my love of horses from my dad because I don’t remember a time when I haven’t loved horses. I knew where all the horse books in our library were and I read them all. I think I learned to ride through reading those books, because I didn’t take any lessons, but I seemed to know how to ride instinctively.

I wanted nothing more than a horse. I wanted one enough to put up with, and enjoy, the occasional rides to no- much-of -on bored horses at a nearby stable, rides where the horse couldn’t be forced into a trot without massive amounts of kicking. I didn’t get a horse until much later but one day someone came by our house with a pony and my parents paid for my brother and me to have our pictures taken on it.  That is definitely a look of pure happiness!

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I know some of you (Randy, Rich, probably Ted) have tuned in thinking, “Wow, a story about getting plastered at Christmas!”   Much as I hate to disappoint you, it isn’t that sort of story.  And no one even got pounded (fortunately.) (more…)

I spent the first part of the day enjoying how amazing the house looks with all the prep and painting done.  Now I can’t think about anything except today’s events.  While I watch the coverage of the shootings at the school in Sandy Hook, Connecticut, I want to write that I can’t imagine hearing that there had been a shooting at your child’s school, going there and hearing that your child’s class  had been wiped out by a murderer.  But that’s all I can do–imagine–and be thankful that I don’t know this indescribable hurt personally.  I can only imagine what it would be like to send your child to school and never have him or her come home alive…and it hurts.  (more…)

I came across these while going through some papers and enjoyed them all over again.  It doesn’t even matter whether you believe in God or not, they’re still funny!  I especially like Joyce’s and Marsha’s comments. (more…)

I realized suddenly tonight after reading an email from an online friend and a serendipitous Facebook post, that Bill and I have suddenly become part of a select group of those parents who have an empty nest. And I’m more than just OK with that.

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