Up early every morning, cleaning house and taking care of the family duties with the spirit, vitality, and energy of youth, far too busy to treasure the day, with a son in the first grade. She took pride in the fact that she kept a spotless house and had dinner on the table when her husband returned from work. She hung her son’s jeans out in the sunshine and fresh air, glad he had a pair of each color for school. They hung neatly, all in a row, jeans of brown, black, green, navy, maroon, and blue.
Where did those days go? Before she knew it, her son was grown and gone, with kids of his own. Those precious family days were a treasure that didn’t last. All too soon, spring turns to summer, and kids grow up too fast, leave home, and are gone. Summer turns to fall. Fall turns to winter. What you wouldn’t give to hang those precious little jeans of every color on the clothesline and watch them blow in the wind! Such precious days don’t last.
Those were the days, the best days in life. Such precious days fly by with the speed of lightening. Suddenly, she wonders where did the time go? How did she get to be this old? She no longer cleans her house with the spirit, energy, and vitality of her youth. What she once took pride in, is dull, boring, and humdrum, just another ordinary, routine day. Now, there are no little jeans blowing in the wind. No first grader will come home to excitedly tell her about his school day. Those are all things of the past, things she didn’t treasure when she had them, because she was always in such a hurry, things that didn’t last.
Now, her little grandson’s mother throws his bluejeans in the dryer as she rushes to get ready for work each morning. The hands of time slip by like a silent thief. Off to work. Off to school. School years fly. No little colored jeans blow in the wind, days of the past, treasured days that just don’t last.
First published at USA.DeepSouth.com
Author retains copyright
(I have an idea for revising again and making this into a full story)
Deep reads that Touch the Heart. Characters come alive on the page.
Amazon Best-selling Historical Romance
Escape to a romantic period where love endured, grew, and flourished despite a Civil War.
5 comments:
What a beautifully written metaphor for the passage of time and the impressions that memories leave. Well done!
Thanks so much for the encouraging words.
Barb
I loved the colored jeans thanks for raising scotty in such a loving way he is a best friend, a wonderful husband, a compassionate father. Mrs. Barbara you had a big role in his up bringing and thank you for passing the colored jeans to me. However, you will never catch me hanging his jeans on the clothes line the dryer will have to do. I love you
Hi Melissa,
Thanks so much for your kind comments about my raising of Scotty. He makes me so proud as a mother, and so does Rodney. Both turned out to be great sons, husbands, and fathers. Thank God above all. Don't blame you for letting the dryer do as hot as it is these days :) Love ya, too.
I'd have to agree with Aunt Melissa on that. You did a great job bringing up your boys. I'll stick to the dryer also. We passed a house the other day with clothes hanging out on the line and I thought back to when Mamma and Jeff use to make Hunter and Me hang them on the line and take then off. I told Todd I'll never do that again.
Post a Comment