Stories told on porches in the night are the food that feeds our souls. A porch is a stepping off place, where girls kiss their parents goodbye and disappear into an adventure,where moms wait to hear their stories when they come home.It' a place where laughter drowns out the crickets, where friends become family. C'mon up to my porch, pull up a chair and tell me your story. We'll weave it into the quilt that wraps us up when life is cold.
Thursday, December 25, 2008
And so this is Christmas
It's still as magical to me and it was when I was five and got the doll that got chicken pox. Love to all, Marti
1 comment:
I turn into a kid again at Christmas too...glad you still feel the magic...
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