scribblechic

We moved into my husband’s childhood home the summer before our son began first grade, when our daughter was still a toddler. The sidewalk that runs past our home carries memories of footsteps shared between my husband and neighborhood friends. Over the past seven years my children have collected memories and chased friendships along the same concrete squares.

Yesterday my daughter filled an entire day with a girl from just down the street and around the corner. Our backyards practically hold hands but the girls have only played together occasionally, until yesterday. On a beautiful summer day they hid from the sunshine and interfering company of our household in my daughter’s room, occasionally scampering to our deck sharing a meal and giggling soundlessly behind the glass doors only to scurry back to play.

This day of friendship, exploring the corners of imaginary play until the moon pushed the sun from the sky with sad good-byes and tired eyes, was a happy reminder of our good fortune in purchasing a house that was familiar as a home, inheriting a stretch of sidewalk that leads to friendship in every direction.

Tagged: Children, Home, Musings, Play