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| << March08, 2007 - Hearts and Humor - I Don't Want To Let Go |
March15, 2007 - Hearts and Humor - Puddle >> |
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Hello, everyone. Nice to see you again. Welcome to all our new members. We had a little rain last week. It brought back memories from my childhood and playing in mud puddles. This story came from those wonderful memories. If anyone is interested in greeting cards, Ginny belongs to a group of artists. They've teamed together to market their products. Check them out at: http://www.etsygreetings.blogspot.com Ginny's cards and other crafts are at: http://www.ginginsgoodies.etsy.com I Must Have Stepped in a Puddle The earlier rain made the ground soft. Water squirted from under my shoes, as I stepped through the field on my lunchtime walk. At the end of the field, a muddy dirt road blocked my path. Clear water formed puddles in the rutted holes of its surface. Silt, washed from the road, settled at the bottom of the small pools. I stopped at the edge of the first one I came to. A small pebble rested at its edge. I picked it up, turned it in my hand, and dropped it into the water. The pebble split the surface. Water splashed up. Ripples spread outward across the water. The pebble hit the bottom. Like a small explosion, swirls and twirls of disturbed silt drifted outward from it. **************************** "Mum!" I rushed to put my boots on. "Mum, the rain stopped. Can I go to Grandmum's now?" Mum looked outside. "OK! But don't get muddy." "I won't!" "And don't ask for muffins. You wait until you're offered." "Ok, Mum." I rushed out, pulling my coat on as the door slammed behind me, "Stop slamming the door!" I heard my father yell, as I stomped down the steps. My boots, a little too large for me, chaffed against my heals. I paused in the driveway. The air was scented with the first green grass of spring. Several worms, forced from the saturated soil, crawled over the surface. I poked one with my finger and rushed back to the house, where I had a can hidden under the steps. My father could use the worms for fishing and, hopefully, forget I slammed the door. **************************** Grandmum's long dirt driveway was pockmarked with potholes filled with water. I stopped at the first one. Silt settled at the bottom of the water. I picked up a piece of gravel and dropped it in. Ripples raced across the water. Clouds of silt exploded outward from the rock. I grabbed several more stones, "Pow! Pow! Pow!" I said to myself, as I dropped one after the other into the puddle. My first puddle clouded with silt. I moved to the next. It sat in the lowest spot of the driveway. A stream of water flowed from a puddle higher up. It was a tiny river that formed a small canyon in the dirt. At the mouth of the river, silt, disturbed by the current, swirled like dark clouds in an angry sky. I picked up a stick and pushed dirt and rocks into the stream, forming a dam. Water built up and began to flow over the top. I added more dirt, making the damn higher and wider. A small pond formed behind it. The pressure grew. The damn gave way, spilling dirty water into my pristine lake. **************************** I moved to the next series of puddles. They were on different levels of the driveway, contained in their dirt embankments. I started at the highest one and made a trench to the next. Water flowed through the banks of my river. It tumbled to the puddle below. The current of my mighty Mississippi churned the waters of my lake. The rushing water swirled the silt in kaleidoscope of browns. I knelt and admired it. "Michael!" Grandmum called, "What are you doing out there? You better not get muddy. You're mum will be mad. Come inside! I just made a fresh batch of muffin." "Do they have pink icing?" I asked. "They sure do." "OK, Grandmum. I'm coming." **************************** A flock of geese flew over my head. Their honking drew me back from the past. The swirling silt continued to spread outward from the pebble resting at the bottom. To my left, I spot a puddle on higher ground. I look around. No one is around. I'm alone. I pick up a stick and dig a trench from one puddle to the other, creating a small river. I dam it off with dirt and smile as the water forces its way through and rushes to the next puddle. Clouds of silt spread outward from the mouth of my river. **************************** "Mike!" Bill said. "You're shoes are full of mud. What did you do for lunch? Were you playing in the mud or something?" I looked down, and faked surprise. "What a mess! I don't know, Bill. I must have stepped in a puddle or something." Michael T. Smith I ask you to forward the stories that touch you to your friends. My only request is that you include the link for your friends to join our family. To join our family, go to: http://subs. zinester.com/ 86758/ REMOVE THE SPACES TO GET TO THE SITE. SPAM BLOCKERS ARE HURTING EZINES. DON'T LET THEM PREVENT YOU FROM READING GREAT STORIES. I love your comments, Send them to msmith4@nj.rr.com. I'll include some in every post. Here are some comments from last week: Dear Michael, I live in South Africa......a long, long way from where you are. I'm one of your new readers who came on board after reading "The Happiest Day of My Life". After sharing yet another of your stories, I want to let you know how special I think you are. Your words are so touching.......it's difficult for me to read through my tears. I find it sad, and very frightening at times, that life passes by so quickly and many precious moments become only memories in our minds. It is a privalege to share in your stories. Kindest regards, Kim ************************ Dear Michael, Your stories are so beautifully written and touching. Are they true? If so, i thought it's only in movies that love gives us a second chance-now i know better! You are truly fortunate. Thanks for bringing optimism to love, family & life. Regards, Faith-Nairobi, Kenya ********************** Dear Michael: I was so touched by your story just now, of the tattered bookmark. I'm glad you found love again. It makes the world go 'round, huh? I also have a son named Justin. He just turned 29. My husband turned 50 yesterday. My father is gonna be 74 this month, and is "re-discovering" life again, after a stroke last October. My mother died 13 years ago, 2 days after my second baby daughter, Summer was born. I am the oldest of 6, and now the matriarch of my family. It's a hard role to fill sometimes.... I have two beautiful grandsons, Austin (3) and Justice (17 mos.). Austin is now considered a "complicated case of epilepsy" but we made it through the dark days when we thought he was gonna leave us at 4 months. One never knows what life is gonna throw at us, huh?! Keep up the great job you do writing and inspiring us. Thank you. Love, Life & Laughter, DawnRose, mother to 4, nana to two boys *************************** Dear Michael Me again. To answer your question “How can I keep so many readers happy? It’s simple: All of us have something special in common. You write the stories from the heart. We read and appreciate those stories from the heart. And me of course… I always love a great story J I absolutely know what you’re talking about in this story. I also dread the mornings knowing I must leave my husband. And me & that snooze button became sworn enemies already. Hahahaha!! I thank you kindly for always brightening up our days/lives. It’s much, much appreciated. And one day, when you’re tired of keeping your readers happy, you must pay South Africa a visitJ. You won’t regret it. Thank you again. God Bless. Cheers Sue-Allan Cape Town – South Africa ************************** This was another gr-8 story, Michael! Thanx. (Your name is especially meaningful to me--as I have an uncle, brother, and two nephews with it, too! A faithful reader, Love, Life & Laughter, DawnRose |
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| << March08, 2007 - Hearts and Humor - I Don't Want To Let Go |
March15, 2007 - Hearts and Humor - Puddle >> |
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