Listen to the Crickets

Give thanks to the Lord; make it known what He hath done. What an awesome God we have whose love for us is never ending.

Isaiah 12:4,

Dusk, sometimes called twilight is that time of day when the heart is most sensitive to all that was security as a child. It is during this time that my mind plays a medley of memories that are so powerful and so real that if I wished, I'm sure I could reach out and capture one with my fingertips.

It is our memories that afford us the only true sabbatical to today's fast paced world.
I can still see my sister's big brown eyes pleading for a puppy or remember the smells and creaky floorboards of the old mercantile where I shopped for dress fabric with my grandmother. The long soft branches of the Weeping Willow tree that served as a cool summer day playhouse, once again beckon to me to come and sit beneath their coolness and the taste of trick or treat candy still rests on my tongue.

During the decades of the fifties and sixties when these events took place, they seemed so insignificant. But now, as I reminisce and see these stories of everyday life as words on a page, I realize it was a way of life that is now only a shadow of memory to cherish and tuck away in my memory box to bring out and share with future generations.