A record of the incessant and trivial chatter running through my head.
“My very first flower show.”
Words uttered by my daughter at the close of a delightful morning spent at my in-laws. Chanelle was quite pleased with the works of her hand as she showed off the colorful creation of her very first flower show. .
How I wish I had such an imagination. As often as it happens, I am still struck with awe when I watch, listen, and take in words of such innocence. This was how our morning ended. It is expressions like these that spark my desire to box up these moments and secure them like fine treasures so as to be able to open them up and remember and re-experience them whenever I need a “fix” of the beauty of such raw innocence.
But alas, they will grow and things will be in constant flux with each new stage. So I continue on this journey to grab on to these moments. . . all of these moments that are so ordinary and yet so unique because they are mine. And today a new experience that I drank in and thought to myself. . . right here and right now we are making memories. . .
This time the memory revolves around something so simple and so ordinary. . .
Corn! Dozens and dozens of ears of corn. Yep, that is what we Ohioan’s do. We husk corn. Lots and lots of corn.
And while it might seem that corn takes the center stage, it is quite the opposite. Corn played only a supporting role. The main characters in this show were the people, the relationships, the time.
Here we are on a beautiful fall morning. My MIL, SIL, Chanelle and Charlie who found his way out of the shot. It seems so simple, so mundane, so. . . messy. But what I was thinking as we tore tore away at the husks and worked the silks away from the kernels, is that this is a special moment. We are women from different generations, varied backgrounds, and diverse personalities. . . family by chance, but friends by choice. These are special ladies. Our time was spent together telling stories about what was, what is, and what could be in each of our lives. Sharing, laughing, and just being. . . together.
And it is in this tearing, cleaning, boiling, and cutting that we know each other better and are known better . And I am reminded, once again, that it is the simplicity of each day that matters. I am completely captured by the reality that I get to write my own story. And while one might look at our daily activities as monotonous and dull, I look and see beauty and excitement. And as I drove away from this lovely morning with the smell of fresh corn following me like a strong perfume and my clothes adorned with kernels of bi-color Ohio corn, I found myself feeling so thankful that I am alive to live this beautiful story.
