Wednesday, February 17, 2010


“I know this may sound crazy,” Jim said, “but when I was a kid I used to love walking around the big willow tree in our front yard with them, after a freshly fallen snow.”

“You’re right,” Joanne said. “That does sound crazy. I’m just the opposite. I like mine warm. Put ‘em in a warm salt soak and I’m nearer to heaven for a while.”

“Not me,” piped up Barb. “Give me a stroll through some tall grass dripping with the morning dew. I find it thoroughly refreshing and it makes me smile.”

“I say nothing beats warm oil and gentle hands,” Bob declared. “You feel so relaxed.”

Matt sat quietly for a few seconds. Slowly, a smile eased onto his face. An ever so slight chuckle breathed out as the smile spread to his eyes. “I liked waiting for a warm summer rain when the dip in the back yard filled up. Then me and the kids went running out, and on the count of three, we all jumped in the puddle together. It was great. We’d usually empty the puddle after a few good jumps but then we’d just go inside and wait for it to fill back up. And then we’d do it all over again. The kids loved it. I loved it. It was one of those traditions that you remember for a lifetime.”

“Last year,” Matt continued, “my youngest came to visit. She’s almost thirty now, but there we were, sitting on the back deck, when a warm summer rain came up. We just sat under the table umbrella, talking. Suddenly she got up, took me by the hand and said, ‘Come on Dad. It’s full.’

“We walked out to the edge of the puddle, and jumped in together.” Matt stopped to soak in the memory.

No one minded the quietness of the moment.

It all started with an odd question: “What do you like to do in your bare feet?”

Me? I think I’m going to wait for the next warm summer rain.

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