Daylight arrives. A rain has come and gone with a vague feeling seemingly without cause. And I find myself over thinking, once again… leaving a fuzzy disconnect.
As I looked through the pane of glass, my eyes were drawn to the lines in my parents old red swing. Retracing the lines of time, I was instantly drawn to the voice of my mother as she would sing church hymns. Or the sound of my father’s snore after a hard day’s work. Reading between the lines, the slats of that old swing tells a story like no other.
Amazing how the universe is always speaking to us, causing those serendipity moments and lapse in time.
As real as the red in the wood, so are the days of my youth. The best truths are rare when read between the lines and finding my purpose within the prolific lines of life is a rare and beautiful thing.
I once read a quote that said…”Rare is a union of beauty and purity.”
And so it is with my life.
A rare treasure I hold. Nothing elaborate. Just a line of generations to pass on the greatest wisdom of simplicity. Along the red swing slats are life learned lessons of love, respect, tolerance, sharing, honesty, and a family bond framed within hearts and souls to reach our greatest potential.
Copyright 2018~The View From My Window
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