Now that I have my song to go with my neighborhood...life is good...I will continue to ponder the stories of those wonderful people who populate the "the hood". Last weekend I spent time with my friend Sherry, who happens to be one of the friendly neighbors. Spending time with Sherry, brought back this memory, tale, story..whatever you would like to call it.
Sherry and Jim's son James was Michael's age, so when the kids were younger we would often get together and have family gatherings or picnics. Always fun to do, as you could include the kids and not need to worry about a babysitter. One nice summer weekend day, Sherry had invited the family over for a backyard picnic along with several other mutual friends and her sister's family. It was a perfect day, and since Sherry's house is situated on Lake Michigan, the kids would definitely spend time in that water..after all ,kids do not mind the cold water.
So, as the day progressed, I remember sitting in the kitchen, a cool summer drink in my hand, and carry on an adult conversation with the female entourage. The kids and men were all outside, and I was confident Peter was safely being watched by one of the many children or male adults. Nirvana...I am thinking..peace and quiet with the girls. I knew on thatday, Peter would not escape under so many watchful eyes, and the water would keep him busy.
We sat and chatted, and drank our cool drinks, and the men took the kids to the lake to go swimming. The children neatly placed all their shoes on a large rock and then proceeded to waddle and wiggle and splash in the water. All was good. Only shouts of joy and happiness filled the air between the crashing of the waves. The perfect Norman Rockwell painting.
No, Peter did not escape that day, nor did he advance too far in the water, he had other plans. While the men and the children soaked in the sun and enjoyed the water, Peter decided those lovely lined up shoes needed to go to Michigan. So, he sent them, flying in the air, and into the water off of Michigan City, never to be retrieved by one living in Wisconsin. Just like pitching pebbles, but shoes. The shouts of joy turned to shouts of "There goes my shoes"!.
After hearing the news, I remember taking Peter home, saying something about a nap. I also remember I must have walked home barefoot, most likely silently stomping, because I still remember the sharp pains on the bottom of my feet and the tears streaming down my face, thinking could one day just be normal?
I know I took it harder than those who lost their shoes, as only one mom accepted the offer to replace the shoes. The rest just laughed and took it in stride. So, start humming..those are the people in my neighborhood, that people that I get to meet each day....lucky me!!