{the.wednesday.whistle}

dear Mikki and Katie…

sunset street was on sunrise terrace. it really was the best place in town to see the sunset too, or the sunrise, and the Maine State Prison.  the subdivision had blossomed with young, hardworking married couples in the 1970′s, and soon there were sprouts of little people all around the same age. we went to school together, played, and grew up at the same time. grandpa would always talk about how he would love to have more privacy, but i have to say from a kid’s point of view, privacy is over-rated…especially when trying to get together a solid game of baseball in the back yard, or even some jump rope in the street that was shaded by the big red maple trees in front of my house.

yesterday, while walking through our own little subdivision, almost a replica of the one i grew up in, i could smell the Maine mud thawing  from the winter freeze. this was my favorite time of year growing up on sunset street….when the days started getting longer and we could all play outside until the sun ducked behind the ocean, and without fear of the teeth chattering bitter cold of New England winds. our parents would congregate in the front yards to watch us play, talk about the Red Sox, or the drama of small town politics and the high school softball season. this was the prelude to endless summer fun, because when you are 8 or 9 years old summers are separate years all in themselves. We would lay in the freshly cut grass, barefoot {or with our new jelly shoes} and look up at the sky and dream about being adults, in an adult world, or playing in the sprinkler in the afternoon when it got too hot to do much else other than that and eat Popsicles on the porch. life was perfectly imperfect.

its funny that something like mud can remind you to stop and smell the flowers while they are blooming, huh?

all my love darlings,

p.s. daily mantra: “if you realized how powerful your thoughts are, you would never think a negative thought”….peace.pilgrim