I love summer.
Our has been wonderfully low-key thus far. Jack turned 7 and finished up baseball. Ana did tennis lessons. The kids have eaten loads of otter pops, set up huge box forts in the backyard, played with neighbor friends. We visited my sister in Boise, too, and that was fun.
I have also tried to encourage a little bit more cooperation and help in the housework, so it hasn't been all fun and games. But mostly fun and games.
For the next few weeks, we will be spending time with my parents before they head to Arizona on their mission. I love their stories. Being young in my family and having a horrible memory, I don't remember much until my parents were well into their 40's, so it is a treasure to glimpse them when they were my age. They share little snippets at random times. Nothing formal, but still beautiful.
One story came as we were sorting through bins of fabric. Dresses with patterns pinned on, maybe even cut out. We came across a small piece of plaid fabric and my mom said, "Oh, I am not giving this away" and she handed it to my dad. To me it was just a scrap, so I asked them to tell me the story.
It was about 1975. That year Dad was away from home more than he was in it. He had a quick stop in Scotland, and wondered what he could bring home to Mom as a gift. A friend suggested he bring her home something that she can sew. He picked out some real Scottish Black Watch Wool. He brought it home and she made a suit out of it. Though she hasn't worn it in years, it still hangs in her closet, and even the scraps still brings a smile on her face.
Just a small thread in a beautiful tapestry.
