One summer day, when my son Brian was just a little boy, his Aunt Sherry came to babysit him.
When I got home from work, I found a note stuck to the fridge. It read: “Took Brain to the beach. Sherry.” We all had a great laugh over the funny spelling. (Yes, my boy is smart, but that’s beside the point.)
Fast forward to the present. Last week, he had some time off, so he came to visit for a couple of days. The weather was perfect and off we went. We took Brain Brian to Lumsden Northbeach for some practice on his golf swing.
This is one of his favourite pastimes when he visits. I’ve blogged about beach golf here before, when they used the beach right next to our house as a driving range and the sandbar as a target. Check out the photos here.
The next morning was even warmer and more beautiful, so for a change, we headed out to the beach at Cape Freels.
Momma got bored watching, so she went for a walk.
Too bad she didn’t bring her own brain to the beach. She forgot to turn her iPhone the proper way for the following video! Oh well, if you watch it on your phone, it’s fine. And black bars or not, it’s still pretty, and the sounds of the wind and waves will help you feel the warm sun and the gentle sea breeze on your face.
Happy Friday, everyone! Will you be going to the beach this weekend?
As promised, here is Part Two of yesterday’s post, where I continue down memory lane, this time with my son Brian. Unfortunately, most of the photos from his childhood do not include me (I was holding the camera), so I filled in with other loved ones.
~ So ends this two-part series of myBlast From the Past. ~
Last week, while I was sifting through old papers, I found this piece of writing from nearly twenty years ago. Thankfully, we have all made peace since then…
Once upon a time, there was a girl from St. John’s. At the age of fourteen, she moved around the bay with her family. She hated her curly hair, adored her Persian cat, and loved to get lost inside stories and songs.
When she grew older, she fell in love and got married. She was happy. She had a beautiful little daughter. Not long after, she gave birth to a handsome son. She liked to tease him and call him her little “curly boy” because he so much reminded her of herself.
A few times, when she and the husband had terrible fights, she had to take her girl and boy to her parents’ house. But the husband would always tell her how sorry he was, and she would go back because she loved him, and wanted to believe him.
Eventually, she stopped believing. She moved back to St. John’s and started a new job and a new life. She still had her beautiful daughter, but she lost her curly-boy to his dad.
She found someone who reminded her of her love for stories and songs. She loves her cats, still hates her curly hair, and misses her son with an ache that never goes away and leaves her pillow wet with tears every night. Still, she knows she is doing the only thing she can.
She hopes someday he will understand how, once upon a time, there was a girl from St. John’s who couldn’t fight anymore, and only wished for
a happily ever after.
Due to an interruption in our internet service, this post didn’t go online yesterday as it should have on my son’s birthday. My apologies!
In the midst of a snowstorm back in the eighties, my boy decided to make his debut into the world. Because I couldn’t make it to Carbonear Hospital, Brian was delivered in the nearby cottage hospital, a high point for the staff there that day. He was a strapping nine pounds seven ounces, and I was thrilled to have a little boy, as I had a girl at home.
As most little boys are growing up, my son was a bundle of energy who kept me on my toes, but he was also super-affectionate.
How quickly the years have flown by! Here is Brian in his teens.
Happy Birthday, Honey. You have enriched our lives beyond measure. ~ Love, Mom ♥
When I was a very young mom back in the Eighties, I often drew writing inspiration from my two children. To honour Mother’s Day, I am publishing a couple of short pieces from my 1980’s archives. In this second post, I offer this observation on my son.
Oh, the exuberance of youth! Anyone who observes my four-year-old boy would probably echo that sentiment.
Each morning he rises early, eager to greet the new day, full of curiosity and mischief even in the routine. His giggling laughter while he plays with his father rings through the house, as I prepare his breakfast. His never-ending questions – which must be answered – abound as he plays with his cereal and wriggles on his chair. And throughout his busy day, his sense of humour shines through, laughing at me even as I scold him.
Sometimes, when disciplinary measures are taken, there is a challenging, defiant gleam in his eye, and I wonder if I will ever be able to control this curly-haired little bundle of energy.
But then I stop myself and question my motives. Do I really want to control him? I would much rather guide him as he learns everything he needs to know, not hold him back. I want him to be inquisitive and bright, and never feel pressured to curb his natural desire to reach out and experience life and all it has to offer him.
After all, isn’t that what growing up is all about? ♥
Is it just me, or does anyone else out there feel like it’s been a gazillion years since your kids were little?
When I was a very young mom back in the Eighties, I often drew writing inspiration from my two children. To honour Mother’s Day, I am publishing a couple of short pieces from my 1980’s archives. For today, here is a poem.
Picture a Little Girl
Picture a little girl with eyes of warm innocent blue.
Picture the morning sun kissing her braids as they swing and dance in the breeze.
Think of a youngster who adores her new puppy, and yet chastises him severely when he chases her “poor little cat”.
Imagine a child with a song in her voice and a laugh always ready,
Yet almost as easily a tear is born because her heart is so soft.
Think of a little girl who loves reading fairy tales, chewing bubblegum, and giving big wet kisses,
And yet can be quiet, intense, and deeply absorbed in a thought.
Imagine a little girl graced with all of these qualities.
Wouldn’t you love it, if you had a daughter like that?