Stories

When I was a little girl, I remember asking my Dad every night to "Tell us a story about when you were a little boy."

Dad told us stories about Montpelier and Kevin Beesicker and getting in trouble and cutting his own willow for spankings and driving a black truck in the dark before he had his license and playing football and getting a D from his dad and all sorts of other things.

I remember how exciting his life seemed. 

So the other night, when the boys wanted a story, I said, "I'll tell you about when I was a little girl." And I told them about the wood stove that heated our house in Merrimack.

The next night, they asked, "Can you tell us about when you were a little girl?"

We've been doing it for about a week.

These are not remarkable stories, but they love them and listen carefully.

A wood stove. Thinking the wrong man was my dad in our backyard. Going to church in a high school. My friend, Katie Hackett. Blizzards and snow forts. (I do understand why they like that one.) My Dad's Chevy Nova.

Great stuff.