Growing up,
Saturdays meant mom would bake. Bread. Buns. Cinnamon rolls. The smell drifted
over the house. My mouth would water. There were times we ate her bread
straight out of the oven, butter melting before it was fully spread.
Chores. Lawns to
mow. Apples to pick. Bushes to trim. Backyard football or baseball to play.
Bikes to ride. Trees to climb. Rafts for traveling up and down the river. The
woods to explore.
Sundays were bacon
and eggs and toast. Maybe sweet rolls from Bauer’s Bakery. Always church. Holy
Angels for the nine-fifteen. Left side. One of the first ten rows or so from
the front. Back home, a Packer game to watch. A dinner of fried chicken, rolls
and mashed potatoes Then the Ed Sullivan Show.
Time passed. Years
drifted by and now I have a family of my own.
I get up early,
though not as early as weekdays. Silence in the mornings. Kim is out running
and won’t be back for an hour or so. The girls, if they’re home, still
sleeping.
The sun peeks over
the tall trees that form a wall in our backyard. I revel in the silence.
Broken, by a woodpecker seeking its breakfast, other birds greeting each other
with chirps and calls.
As neighbors wake,
the familiar sound of lawnmowers come to life. Cars drive past our house,
occupants on their way to the grocery store or on to some such errand.
Still, our family
room is quiet, peaceful. No TV. No radio. Revel in silence. Gathering my
thoughts. Thinking through a scene or dialogue of my current book, my current
work in progress. Prewriting in my head- an important step for me before I pull
out the laptop and peck away at the keyboard.
Bailey at my feet
or laying on the couch in her room. Lazy. Peaceful. At rest. Just like me, I
suppose. Not anxious to begin the day, but rather, to begin it slowly.
So grateful for
these mornings.
Weekend Mornings
to recharge. Weekend Mornings to take stock. Weekend Mornings to reflect.
Important, I
think.
Plenty of time for
work. Plenty of time to be busy. Not enough time to rest.
Sigh. Smile. A nod
of the head. And, something to think about . . .
Live Your Life, and
Make A Difference!
To My Readers:
Please feel free
to connect with me at:
Twitter at
@jrlewisauthor
Facebook at: https://www.facebook.com/Joseph.Lewis.Author
If you like Thriller/Mystery fiction, check out my
novels:
Available on Amazon for .99 the Lives Trilogy Prequel,
Taking Lives:
FBI Agent Pete
Kelliher and his partner search for the clues behind the bodies of six boys
left in various and remote parts of the country. Even though they don’t know
one another, the lives of FBI Agent Kelliher and two boys become interwoven
with the same thread that Pete Kelliher holds in his hand. The three of them
are on a collision course and when that happens, their lives are in jeopardy as
each search for a way out. http://bit.ly/Taking-Lives-JLewis
Stolen Lives, Book One of the Lives Trilogy:
Two thirteen year
old boys are abducted off a safe suburban street. Kelliher and his team of FBI
agents have 24 hours to find them or they’ll end up like all the others- dead!
They have no leads, no clues, and nothing to go on. And the possibility exists
that one of his team members might be involved. http://bit.ly/Stolen-Lives-JLewis
Shattered Lives, Book Two of the Lives Trilogy:
Six men escaped
and are out for revenge. The boys, recently freed from captivity, are in danger
and so are their families, but they don’t know it. The FBI has no clues, no
leads, and nothing to go on and because of that, cannot protect them. http://bit.ly/Shattered-Lives-J-Lewis
Splintered Lives, Book Three of the Lives Trilogy:
It began in Arizona with death and it ends in
Arizona in death. A 14 year old boy has a price on his head, but he and his
family don’t know it. Their family vacation turns into a trip to hell. Out
gunned and outnumbered, can this boy protect his father and brothers? Without
knowing who these men are? Or how many there are? Or when they might come for
him? http://bit.ly/Splintered-Lives-J-Lewis
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Thank you for your comment. I welcome your thought. Joe