Clouds of Vanilla Swirling Around on the Tip of your Tongue


Tables, clouds, memories and Moms…here are just a few precious memories I’m remembering.

This is Cowboy and he likes clouds too. 

Clouds. My mom reminded me of something I wrote when I was in the 3rd or 4th grade. She said, “Do you remember what you wrote?” I smiled and shook my head no.
She continued smiling, “You wrote about clouds. You wrote that the taste of clouds would be vanilla if they ever had an opportunity to touch the tip of your tongue.”

Moms are amazing. The things they remember and the way they share those memories with you. I’m so thankful for mine and moments like that.

Hang with me a second while I get a bit nostalgic. In my family, most of the important conversations we have are around our old kitchen table. It is oak, I think. On the table’s surface there are many nicks and cuts and scratches that tell the story of its long life. My great-grandma once butchered chickens on its solid top. Milk has been spilled. Tears shed. Coffee drank. The table sat covered in dust and unused in storage for a few years too. With a new coat of varnish the table was given new life and now stands proud with its cuts, nicks and textures in my parent’s home.

I like to sit there, at the old table in the kitchen, and I savor the stolen moments I get to have with my Mom. Sometimes we will sip coffee together. Other times we will just sit together.

I am home trying to recuperate from a cold. I fight with myself to rest and struggle with the guilt I find in being still. Isn’t that odd? This is something I want to do better: take care of myself. 

How can you take care of others if you don’t take care of yourself?

Today I am better and am thankful for God, rest, the sounds of birds singing outside my window. And the chicken-less noodle soup my Mom made for me. Yes, Moms are amazing and mine is so very special.    

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