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When I was in the 3rd grade we lived in a little place called Corsicana, TX.  Not our best year as a family…that's the year that my parent's marriage fell apart.  And the year that my teacher Ms. Wheel-a (Wheeler) made me cry everyday by using my head as a cane or yelling at me about long division.  1984-85, you are not missed.  Admidst all of that I have some fond memories too.  The snowcone man coming every evening after dinner is one.  My mom letting me create things in the kitchen using whatever ingredients were on hand (I recall a green rice krispie creation that did not resemble "treats").  Another is of the creeks.  I would take my yellow bike and, with a friend whose name I have long-since-forgotten, head to what we called our "honey factories".  These were little streams or creeks near or around our vicinity.  We played for hours there – "packaging" our honey (the water must have been honey-colored), selling, buying, tasting (gross!) and running our factories.  It was a great escape for me. 

I have always loved moving water.  Whether it's dirty, little Texas creeks.  Or beautiful, flowing Canadian rivers.  I love it.  It brings peace to my soul.

So it's not surprising that when I need to de-stress, or just "play" with Samuel, I take him to our neighborhood creek.  They've built a park and a beautiful tree-lined nature walk around it.  Our favorite pastime is to go throw sticks and rocks in the creek, and he is in heaven there (what boy wouldn't be?).

From the creek, I can hear the children on the playground at the school, and I could swear that I hear Jacob and Caleb's laughter admidst the sea of jubilant children's voices.

A cool breeze, the trickle of the creek, the crunch of leaves falling, and the sound of children playing happily.  This…for me…is a happy place.