today i am a small child again.
there are magical places.
and i will tell you.
this picture i treasure. i had it for a long long time.
my gramma told me it was me. sifting the sand through my fingers.
it wasn’t really. but to me i was there. it was very real.
and she did look just like me. right down to the bow in my blonde hair.
i could hear the water. feel the cool hard sand on my little bare feet.
funny . . . what stays with us.
i’ve been a sky and a moon watcher all my life.
when does one become a moon watcher? why?
some children never even notice the moon . . . or the sky . . .
did the picture come first? in a book?
who knows what sparks a tiny mind?
but it stays.
yes. it stays.
i still watch the moon. and the sky. and the clouds.
i never eat a bowl of oatmeal that i don’t hear my gramma’s voice . . .
“don’t dawdle! finish your porridge!”
it was always porridge to her.
she spoke right out of fairy tales.
that made eating of the ‘porridge’ ever so much more wonderful! LOL
trips on trains. not ships.
but as wonderful as any voyage on a sea . . .
the voyage on the rails.
the smell of the diesel from the giant engine.
the dining car with the starched white cloths and a rose in a crystal vase.
real. heavy. silver.
magic to this child.
is there anything sweeter than being nestled up next to a grownup
who will read to you?
sitting in a chair by yourself holding an ipad or a kindle just doesn’t seem
like it would have the same feeling.
but i guess if that’s all you’ve ever known . . .
you wouldn’t miss the other . . .
or even know the difference.
but there is a difference.
a great big difference.
i was that lucky little child above.
i was read to.
and now. books are my friends for life.
and the memories of those times are jewels in my mind.
miss jessie wilcox smith
and this lady’s art was so much a part of those books.
the ones i loved and would read over and over.
i never tire of her pictures.
i’ve only just barely touched the surface of her work.
to me she captures the innocence and beauty of childhood like none other.
my wish for you . . .
if there is a child in your life
just sometimes . . .
before it is too late . . .
while they are still very much a child . . .
watch the moon with them.
watch a thunderstorm roll in.
listen to their day.
hold them close. read to them.
and they will learn to enchant themselves by reading.
they will never be lonely.
there are too many friends to be had in books!
too many exciting lives to learn about and places to go!
and when it’s their birth day . . .
and they’re 68 years old . . .
they’ll think back
and take out the treasure chest of memories and dust off the
very best ones!
and it will be like little birthday presents shining in the sun!
and maybe they’ll eat a bowl of porridge in honor of the day . . .
or feel sand sift through their fingers . . .
memories mix with dreams and become real!
they do old bean!