Monday stop light meditation at the five-way

Wild horses monument, Eastern Washington

The kids were small enough then they didn’t have the wherewithal to complain or object, they just got in the car with the dog, the three of them in the back and me driving, Dawn saying isn’t this nice, and to the park we’d drive and get out and walk around, stop at the play set and then decide it was time to turn back, it looked like rain…and we did that four or five times in the span of a few years, and as I sat at the stop light this morning going into work I thought that’s where we used to turn right there, to go to the park.

Categories: Memoir, parenting

Tags: , , , , , ,

12 replies

  1. *nodding* I get it. I get this.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. ah, the memories never leave, do they? never staying to play in the rain? there is still time –


  3. Sometimes it’s a little disorienting to be someplace and realize that older versions of yourself are walking around there. “That’s where I [fill in the blank].” There are some particular street corners in San Francisco that never fail to get to me …

    BTW, I can almost hear the “Isn’t this nice”!


    • “Isn’t this nice.” I know, totally. Yes, the older versions of oneself. Dude, you are my inner-reader-critic-guru-thing. Thanks for reading and commenting as often as you do, I really appreciate it. I’ve gone slack as a reader, having a hard time keeping on top of my work-life balance et cetera now…but not alone in that, I know.


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