scribblechic

My daughter saw the message first.  A collection of sticks scattered intentionally, just out of sight.

She came to her father and me, whispering to us her brother had gone home.  We were visiting with friends, adults gathered around a table and children littered throughout the yard, absorbing the last moments of evening sun.  Curious, I paused and let my glance sweep the yard for my son’s form.  With a note of authority she said, “He left a message.  I recognize his handwriting.” Guiding us to a scattering of tiny sticks, I followed amused.  There, among the twigs, was the message: I went home.

Safe in the knowledge we were among friends and close to home, my husband and I shared a smile and began to inventory the area for our son.  We found him happily playing in the front on a borrowed bike.  I could share the safety lessons we reviewed later that evening; there were several.  Still, the moment I have returned to this morning with the fondness of a dog-eared passage in a well-loved story was my daughter’s recognition of her brother’s handwriting in sticks.

On the eve of Mother’s Day my greatest joy is the sharing between my children.  For all their differences and moments of sibling frustrations, there is a kindness between them; a knowing and acceptance of one another that spells love.

Tagged: Handwriting, Message, Siblings

§ One Response to handwriting

• JC says:

  May 9, 2011 at 9:32 am

  Magic. “I recognize his handwriting” ~~ speaks volumes about their connection.

  Reply