Sweetie and I read a few pages in my mother's old journal last night.
She (my Mother) describes Her earliest memories: a chilly house where a person dressed in a hurry around the wood-burning stove; Her own Mother's struggle with polio; riding horses around the neighborhood.
Such are memories of an age that has gone forever; the first two, thankfully; the last, sorrowfully.
What a lovely glimpse into a gentler time in which people lived more leisurely lives. And although we have nearly eradicated polio, the diseases of our time are quite horrible, too.
ReplyDeleteThankfully, there are still horses.
I wish I could ride around my neighborhood on a horse. but they do have poop laws now. thats gotta be a chore.
ReplyDeletelovely entry.
Memories are precious jewels - the reel that plays from our projecting heart. Thank you for sharing these treasures with your Readers.
ReplyDeleteLucky You to have such a journal :-)
ReplyDeleteI have always wished Mom would write down her stories ...growing up in Brasil ... a world of fascinating experiences
a little house in Brasil... a la Laura Ingrams little house on the prairie... how precious that would be to have....