One of my earliest memories is of being bundledup by my mother and taken outside on a snowyJanuary night to look at the stars.I must have been four or five,still small enough for my slender mother to carry.We stood on the veranda of our house in Virginia,a heavy shawl wrapped around us both,gazing over white fields at the skyas my mother pointed our the constellations she knew."The North Star is the brightest star in the sky, "she whispered, her warm breath wreathing my ear."Once you find it, you can always figure out where you are."Nestled against my mother,I found this instruction both sensible and enchanting,and I have never forgotten it.by Suzanne Bernefrom Perfect Mornings, Perfect Memories
Sunday, January 29, 2012
Sunday Morning Poetry
In case you want more...
Poem Hunger Favorite Things I Love Lists Personal Passions 52 Lists Slice of Life Lawsonland Being Momma Bookish Thoughts A Habit of Gratitude Just Me Guest Blogger Just Thinking NaBloPoMo August Break Family Stories Something for You This moment Team Lawson The Good Life Christmas Cup of Blessings I Love America Alphabetica Jeffrey My Love Precious Ordinary SOOJ AprilLove Intention Why Don't You Inspiration Opinions Please Quotes unphotographable The BIG List Art San Francisco I love Presents Monthly Mosaic The Art of Silly December Reflections Travel Book of the Week Fiction