We painted the kitchen cabinets recently…after 30 years it was long overdue…
And I noticed when we finished painting…a white spot on my shoe.
We never know when a memory will call on us…when it will linger with us a while…
when it will find it’s way from whence it lives..to make us stop…and smile.
Our house is filled with many items…which we usually walk by unaware…
but every now and then we’re visited…by the memories lodging there.
A drawing completed by my dad…when he was just a boy
A recipe written in Deborah’s mom’s hand…that to this day fills her heart with joy.
A counter cross stitch hanging on the wall…A picture…a photograph
A Scattegories game that still reminds us…how Deborah’s dad used to make us laugh.
A growth chart filled with grandchildren’s heights…A walking stick… A teddy bear,
and we cannot sit around a campfire…without memories filling the air.
A spot of paint from our kitchen project…as we tried to change its hue…
that escaped from the brush as I painted…and landed on my shoe.
A spot of paint that had no idea…what it would come to mean to me…
A spot of paint dropped from my brush…that would paint a memory.
A spot of paint that may cause other people…when they see me walk by…to stare
but because I understand it’s meaning…a spot of paint I’m leaving there.
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