I am “enjoying” a large number birthday this year. They get larger every year, you know. And the larger the number, the more progress changes things. Sigh. Sometimes it causes nostalgia. Remember when the wind pushed tumbleweeds along the fields? Over and over they toppled and scooted. Hence their name. Remember when you could go pick the wild sunflowers, buttercups and bachelor buttons in the field down the street? Where did those wildflowers go, anyway?
I have a few other memories, too:
The Ditch—When I was Young
When I was young, I explored the ditch with my friends. It was close by the house. I could hide in the caves and pretend the outlaws were after me.
When I was young, my friends and I would slink up to the deserted cabins on the other side of the ditch. We were sure a witch must live there, and she would turn us into stones or toads or something worse.
When I was young, we used to run up and down the ditch and pretend we were in a huge canyon. The sand felt so good under our bare toes if we didn’t stub them on rocks. We raced against the tumbleweeds blowing and rolling beside us.
When I was young, we crossed the ditch and climbed the big lava rocks. Reaching a hand here to grasp a hold, then moving a foot—a hand—a foot—until we reached the pinnacle and it seemed like the top of the world.
When I was young, we crossed the ditch and ran past the big rocks until we found pussy willows and picked them and stroked them alongside our cheeks. They were so soft.
When I was young, we ran through the woods behind the ditch and onto a big flat rock to have a picnic.
When I was young, I knew God laughed with us when we played in His great, big world.
“But Jesus said, ‘Let the little children come to Me, and do not forbid them; for of such is the Kingdom of Heaven” (Matthew 19:14).