SOME days, it's easy to connect with that part of us that waited and watched the grownups as they went about their days taking care of us. Doing almost everything for us, watching over our every move. Cautioning us. Controlling us.
We dug our heels in from time to time and proved to be a royal pain in the ass, but - for the most part - those were the good old days. Nothing much to worry about.
Spelling words learned. Read, write, do a few math problems. Pose for a few pictures like this little girl at the left. Kiss aunts and uncles - even if they had bad breath or bristly whiskers.
What were our dreams back then? Have we remembered them? Do they still mean something to us?
As I watch the calendar pages fly past - summer will be gone before I know it - soon I'll be feeling that old "pull," that instinct, to buy notebook paper, a new wool skirt and sweater and a brand new box of Crayola crayons.
September always brings that special smell in the air and a feeling of change and excitement, no matter how old I get. I'm ready to go back to school! This fall I will accomplish something special. I can feel it in my bones - femminismo