Last night I watched the news in silent shock as reporters tried to make sense out of the horrible shooting at Virginia Tech that makes no sense to anyone except the man who did it.
Tragic events like this cause me to think about how dear my own children are to me, as I imagine the unthinkable: what if that shooting had happened at my daughter's college and not in Virginia? Nobody is immune from violence. Nobody. I tend to forget that as I live my life day to day, taking for granted the people I value.
Therefore, tonight was even sweeter to me, because I recognize that I'm very lucky that my children are alive and with me today. I got home tonight and found these sticky notes on the door at eye-level:
My daughter and I chose the best sticks we could find from our lilac bush, and while I whittled the ends, the fire was stoked, and soon we were ready to begin. Four people huddled in chairs around the tiny opening of the chiminea. Four hot dogs were secured on four wobbly sticks. Four arms reached toward the flames, vying for the perfect spot to cook each hot dog to perfection.
We ate and knew we'd never tasted better dogs. Then we got down the the most important part of the evening: roasting the perfect marshmallow. Aaaaahhhh, sweet bliss. Is there anything more fun than trying to roast a marshmallow to absolute perfection? My personal favorite is when the entire skin of my marshmallow turns golden tan and bubbles up without turning black. When it's cool enough, I pull the skin off and pop it in my mouth, leaving a smaller, gooey marshmallow center on my stick to be roasted also for a second tasty bite. Mmmmmmmm, good.
Now I have to hit the showers because the smoke in my hair and on my clothes is becoming too much to withstand.
I love when we have impromptu fun like this. What will I do after my kids grow up and quit leaving such sweet notes with great ideas on them??