
Just look at my boy's smile! Snow isn't something that happens often in southwest Texas, but in 1985 we had an amazing 11-inch snowfall. It was a magical event that made me wish I was a kid, too, just like mine. A cold, wet, happy kid.
When I asked him what he liked most about the snow, he quickly told me, "Oh, I like eating snow. No, wait, I like throwing snow. No, no, I like SLEDDING in the snow! Oh, Mom. You ask such silly questions!" And even though my 30-year-old boy now lives in sunny LA, he makes it a point to visit some snow, somewhere, every winter.

She had turned two a few weeks before the wedding, and I was a little nervous, afraid that she was too young to pull it off. But she marched down the aisle, meticulously dropping flower petals like a champ, and as I stood at the back of the church I finally relaxed.
What I hadn't realized, though, was that the church lights would be dimmed down to nothing mid-ceremony as the couple exchanged vows by candlelight. In the hush of the moment, with only the flickering candles illuminating the minister and wedding party, my girl's little-girl voice could be heard true and clear as she sang, "Happy birthday to me ... happy birthday to me. Happy birthday, dear Ash-a-lee ... happy birthday to me!"
I was mortified. Everyone laughed and applauded, though, and my girl got a big hug from a very gracious and amused laughing bride. And then the ceremony continued.

And, in case you're wondering, yes, she still suffers from terminal cuteness. And I mean that in a good way.

Sigh.
All the magic of Christmas is in that sweet expression and hopeful look in his eyes. He'd been a shepherd in the nativity play that Christmas, circa 1980, and I have to say, he was a very good shepherd, too. Even at a tender age, my boy took the responsibility of being a shepherd quite seriously, even to the extent of keeping the other shepherds, a cousin in particular, from wandering off during the "boring parts" of the re-enactment.
When Santa Claus showed up in all his red and white ho-ho-ho splendor, my boy was enchanted and almost overwhelmed. Such reverence he had for the REAL Santa Claus! The children lined up, each ready to tell Santa what they wanted to find under the tree Christmas morning. But my boy, for the first and maybe only time in his life, was speechless, overcome by the mere presence of someone so magical and wonderful.
I remember having trouble focusing this shot because I was bawling like an idiot. But hey, I'd just given birth to his sister a couple of months earlier, so I'm claiming 'post-partum crazy' on that one. But I still tear up when I see this photo and remember such innocence.

Sigh.
Yup, that's the way we were. Hope you enjoyed the little memory lane stroll almost as much as I have.
3 comments:
That last pic is from the Harlingen or San Antonio zoo, I believe. Probably Harlingen!
I LOVE YOU!
-s.o.b.
I can't believe you are looking through and sharing old family photos. I posted an older one just yesterday and intend to put a couple of myself and siblings in the late 60's. I guess great minds think alike. Especially when we have the last of the winter blues!
What a cute/sweet post! Your kids are lucky to have such a great mom!
Post a Comment