I feel as though I should take an afternoon nap, so I go upstairs and lie down across the bed. There is a warm breeze caressing my skin as it blows gently into the bedroom thru the open widow. The birds are singing a joyful song of gratitude for the gift of beautiful sunshine and clear skies in which to fly. Off in the distance, I can hear the sound of an ice cream truck as it slowly makes its way thru the streets of our neighborhood. It is as if the birds are singing in perfect harmony with the joyful music emanating from the moving sweet shop. I continue to listen and hear the sound of a lawn mower coming from somewhere nearby. As I begin to take in all that I am hearing and feeling, I suddenly get a whiff of freshly mown grass. It reminds me of summertime as a small child.
For as far back as I can remember, summer has been my favorite time of year. As much as I loved school, I was so excited when summer break arrived. I would wake each morning, anxious to go outside and play. I would hurriedly get dressed, eat a few bites of breakfast and if there were any chores that just “had” to be done, I would race thru those, doing a “good” job of course…and then out to the sunshine I’d go.
Each day held a new adventure for me. I spent most of my time playing alone, not because I had no one to play with, but because I just seemed to prefer it that way. After all, I did have my secret hide-outs that no one else could know about. I remember my favorite one was across the main road, thru the neighbor’s yard, across the road that led to the creek – better known as “the creek road”, thru the woods…right smack dab in the middle of a circle of huge boulders. I’m sure they were just large rocks, but to me, at that age, they were definitely boulders. I would take my “treasures” with me and hide them underneath the rocks. Some of my “best” treasures were empty “Aunt Jemima” syrup bottles. I shared many secrets with those little ladies. They may have been empty of syrup, but I filled each one back up with the secret hopes and dreams of a little girl’s heart. They always listened and accepted what I had to say without hesitation or condition. And I always made sure the lids were screwed on very tight, so that my secrets would be safe.
I have thought of those syrup bottles often over the years. It’s funny how something that might have seemed so very useless to others, could have been such a good friend to a little girl, who’s heart was so full, but who was afraid to share with others for fear of judgment. I AM very blessed to be at a place in my life now, where I feel free to share what is in my heart with all who choose to hear it. It is as if those bottles from all those years ago have been divinely opened and the hidden treasures of my heart are finally beginning to pour forth from the safety of their hiding place.
~D~
Photo: ~D~ Hideout ~ March 2010
Copyright 2010 – Denise Gilreath ©