Family. Family is the absolute best circle of spirit experiences a soul can get! It runs the entire gamut between breath-stealing joy to tragic heart break. Life! Love! Immerse yourself in every ounce of it and remind that relentless voice within that it's all good. We're supposed to go through these things.
Take a look at this old family photo:
Now, do you think there was ever conflict, love, joy, tragedy or miracles experienced within the walls of this old dairy farmhouse? Left to right, that's Grandma, Uncle Verne, Darrell, Grandpa, Auntie Dodo, unknown Italian gentleman, Auntie Lillian, Noni, Nono, Uncle Frankie and we think the baby is Uncle Albert. Oh, and we don't know the dog's name. But, I digress, my question is this:
Do you think any of these people had a tattoo?
. . . which leads me to my 25 year old, 'Outlaw' . . .
Yes, he got it last week. If my count is correct, and there's a very good possibility I'm way off here,
my son now has a total of 7 of these PERMANENT renderings on his living canvas! The very skin I gave birth to! Yeah, I realize he's 25. Yes, I have justified all this ink with the old standby, "Well, there are worse things he could do." In a way, I kind of like the fact that he's passionate enough about things to commit to having them permanently rendered onto his hide. On the other hand, how many is too many?
Alright then. Take a look at these two:
That's Grandpa Albert on the left and Uncle Bud on the right. Now, I wonder if either of these outlaws had any tattoos?
Maybe it's hunting season coming right around the corner . . . or maybe it's just that I long to post sweet romantic vignettes of beautiful creations I've placed about the new house, or perhaps it's just that tiniest nip of fall on the evening air . . . I'm yearning for my children to come home.
I want to cook stew and bake big steaming loaves of hot buttered bread! I want a fire in the fireplace and sip yummy red wine while we all sit around and laugh and reminisce. I long to listen to my son and daughter's stories about where they hunted that morning or how the 'big one' got away . . . again.
I miss my family. Tattoos and all!
Recent Comments