Tuesday, May 21, 2013

A Dusky Evening Memory

courtesy exuberantcolor.blogspot.com

Challenging myself to tell a simple story, I recalled a classic moment early in my son's life.  Every mother finds herself doing something she thought she would never have to deal with.  We often crack ourselves when we consider things we never thought we'd have to say.

Consider the idyllic rural country side, rolling green grasses.  There's the old farmhouse with the strawberry patch out to it's side. Out in the front of the old house there's a big maple to offer it's shade.  Beneath the spreading branches there's blankets and folding chairs.  My sisters and I were sprawled across the quilts, chatting with mom and watching my 16 month old son playing in the grass with his favorite truck of the day.

We were laughing and poking at each other, keeping an eye on the toddler as he played around the house.  He was having great fun climbing up the old steps and then back down, turning around to cackle at us and then back up the steps.  It was a moment of perfect peace as we soaked the last lingering rays of the sunset.

Dusk had fallen over the fields, so we picked up the blankets, collected the boy child and headed toward the back door.  No one uses front doors in the country.  We had reached the back porch when my sister stopped and pointed to my son.

"What is he chewing on?"  Becky asked pointing to him.

I looked closer at my son's face and saw indeed he was chewing with much enthusiasm as slobbery brown juices dripped off his chin.   Becky scooped him up and wrestled with him as he tried to keep his treasures in his mouth.  After a moment she got a finger into his cheeks and swiped out his mouth.

She began to squeal, gag and shake her hands, yelling for us to "Help him, Help him!"  She continued to squeal and dance around yard.  The panic spurred us up off our chairs and we ran to the now frightened toddler.  As he wailed, my mom swept his mouth clear and held the contents up to show me.


Yes, he had a mouth full of half chewed June bugs.  My sister had been doing her classic "bug" dance.  Mom and I fell over with the big kind of belly laugh that leaves tears streaming down your face and you hug yourself because the ache in your sides.  That dusky evening on the farm is a sweet memory of a grandma, a mom, a sister and a son that to this day brings a smile and a chuckle to my heart.

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