A little boy and his sisters

Once upon a time there was an adorable, wild, blond headed boy who was the baby in his family. He owned his mama's heart and was his daddy's little man.  He had two older sisters.  His eldest sister mothered him, and he terrorized the other sister.  Life was happy for him.

Every summer this family would celebrate being out of school by heading up to the mountains of Virginia,where the mother's family lived. For city kids, this was the best of times.   The boy loved it most of all when his parents left him there with his big sisters.  Although he loved to tease them, the boy loved his sisters, and they loved him.  His summer days in Virginia made memories of the best kind.  Working in Granny's garden, playing on the farm with his cousins, and riding Uncle Johnny's horse, these are the memories that come to life when he visits with the sisters.

And somedays when he and his sisters are together, those memories are relived in such away that the rest of us see those days in vibrant colors.  When I listen intently to stories that they tell, the details and endings are etched in my mind.  I smile in anticicipation of the tales of those three children I know so well.  I see their bare feet slapping along a dirt road. I hear their laughter across the green Virginia hills.  I smile when I think of the good natured shoving and chatter that fills Granny's kitchen at supper time, everyone reaching for a piece of fried chicken.

I never met Granny, or Mama. I would love to have been one of those carefree children splashing in the mountain stream.  But when the boy and his sisters, now all grown, are together, and stomachs are full from a  good meal,  they stretch out, relax and the stories flow. And I am there. I see the children. I hear Granny fussing in her mountain twang.  I see Mama, laughing at the antics of a wild little blond boy and I smile. He is a treasure that little blond boy. A treasure I know full well.