Fantasy Nights




	WRITE 2 THE HEART Stories that are aimed "Write 2 the Heart" August 14, 2003 Cheryl Speir, Editor, moderator@write2theheart.com ----------------------------------------------------------- Welcome to your latest issue of "Write 2 the Heart" You are receiving this newsletter because you requested a subscription or a friend generously forwarded their copy to you. To subscribe send a blank e-mail to subscribe@write2theheart.com. ------------------------------------------------------------ Remember the summer nights when you were young? Mary-Ellen describes them so well you can see, feel, and taste them once more. ------------------------------------------------------------ Fantasy Nights By Mary-Ellen Grisham ------------------------------------------------------------ "Bee, bee bumble bee, all bums come in free!" The chant would echo around the neighborhood as the child who was "it" ran out of places to look for hidden playmates. Hide n' Go Seek was one of the games we played on those warm summer evenings before the shadows of dusk got too dark for us to see. There were the favorite hiding places and the new ones that challenged the ability of all players. After tagging "out" the easier hide-aways, I would get them to help me search out the adventurous players in field or garage. It was scary, it was fun, and it was exhausting; but we all loved the game! Then we would sit on the old wooden porch steps and let the warm breezes cool us before we started play again. The dull yellow bulb on the porch would push the shadows away a bit, but we would sit lulled by the warmth, charmed by the lights playing through the tree leaves, and enchanted by night sounds and smells. Crickets, katydids, locusts, and frogs would serenade us as we told favorite stories or gossip. The lightning bugs would begin the blinking pinpricks of light, and we would get up to chase them around the yard. We thought of them as fairies and vied with each other to capture one in cupped hands. We could watch the light-glow squeeze through our fingers until we released our tiny captive into the velvet night. "Swing the Statue" was our next game, and with due parental caution, we would swing each player into poses and pick the best statue to be the next "swinger." When we tired of this game, we would play "Shadow Tag." The person who was "it" would try to step on the shadow of a child. It took agility and maneuverability to avoid the shadow tap that would end the session and make a new player "it." Sinking down on the old porch steps again, we would wait for the bell of the ice cream man. On a good night every kid had the coin to buy a cold Popsicle, a luscious Fudgesicle, or a yummy Eskimo bar. We would laugh and tease as we licked up the delicious cool treats. Tired now, the kids would slowly disperse to go home. I would head up for bath and window gazing at the end of my bed. I'd sleepily watch the fairies in the trees and be very sure that Mary Jane and Snuggles of comic book fame were cozily settled into their bedroom beneath the tree roots. Time fell away when I re-lived the fantasy with my own son and his playmates in a new neighborhood that was similar to the one of my childhood. Now I was the mom sitting in the chair in the dark part of the yard watching the joy, the fantasy, the fun. Occasionally I would get called into service as a swinger of statues or an arbitrator of arguments. Occasionally when friends were too few, I would play the games, frequently allowing myself to be odd man out, "it," or "least pretty," to heighten the fun of my small companions. Quite frequently, I would provide the cash or coin for the ice cream man, or bring bunches of cool treats from the freezer. The air was still sweet--so near to body temperature that I could almost not separate inside from out. The slow, subtle merge with nature and all living things, and the magic of sights, sounds, tastes, and smells once again enchanted us all. Crickets, katydids, locusts and frogs joined in chorus, fireflies blinked, and the light and shadows filtered through leaves of large trees. Somehow in the shadows, sitting on the old stoop, I could hear the laughter, the voices from long ago, join in with the sweet sounds of my son and his chums. Somehow there was a part of me still as spontaneous and free, still as full of fun and endless activity as the pigtailed urchin of long ago. How glorious that the child never dies--is there to reenact the magic and share the fun! This time, though, the magic was better, stronger, as tiny arms snuggled around my neck for a bedtime story after the outdoor games were done. The magic of warm summer nights--fantasy nights--and wondrous stories is awesome; but none is so sweet, so deep, or so rewarding as the love of my own child and the warm circle of family and friends. ©2003 Mary-Ellen Grisham meginrose @ empowering.com You are encouraged to write to the authors to let them know what you think of their story, just remember to remove the space before and after the @ symbol. The space is placed in the address to protect our writers from viruses and email harvesting programs. Have a comment on today's story? Send it to: moderator@write2theheart.com ---------------------------------------------------------------- Mary-Ellen is a Christian writer living in Godfrey, Illinois. Recently retired, she enjoys sharing her stories and poems with a variety of inspirational sites. She is the Editor-in-Chief of Eternal Ink, a twice-monthly Christian ezine newsletter with a new web site: www.eternal-ink.com Mary-Ellen would like to announce the annual Eternal Ink Poetry Contest for 2003. November 1, 2003 is this year's deadline. THE HARVEST HOME POETRY CONTEST will be a gathering of Christian poems on all topics, in all styles of poetic form. Please contact Mary-Ellen Grisham for guidelines and more information. -------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------------------------- Letters From Our Readers -------------------------------------------------------------- Ginger's story reminds us to take the time to give that hug, speak the words-I love you. Send the flowers now. Tell someone how much you appreciate them. Why not tell them what you admire about their life, their person, their attitudes or even their commitments. If we would just think about that and do it, we would never suffer from - if only's and the what if's. Manda --------------------------------------------------------------- Military Prayer Reminder --------------------------------------------------------------- As you read over this list of names, please take that moment to pray for these young people and their families: Chris Speir Tim Speir Alan Thaddeaus Howard Todd Holland Graham William Julie Sagel Jessie Marshal Thompson Jason Eric Hernandez Kristin Danielson Ken Prieur Ryan Please continue to pray for our country, our leaders, and our troops at this time. If you have loved ones in the military, or who are being called to go overseas, send their names (first and last or first only) to be included in our prayer reminder. --------------------------------------------------------------- Cheryl's Corner Many of you know I love to go to garage sales. Not only do I find bargains, but I also meet unusual people. I met a lady recently who was selling her cast-iron skillet. I bought it for one of my sons who had said he wanted one. While paying for it she told me the story behind it. As a new bride, she wanted to impress her new husband with her culinary skills. Unfortunately her mother had never allowed her in the kitchen. She called her mom to ask how to fix eggs. Her mother said that she had to first season the skillet, put it in the oven for an hour. She faithfully followed her mother's instructions. When she cooked the eggs, they stuck to the pan. She called her mother crying. Her mom asked her to go over the steps she had used. "First, I salt and peppered the skillet and put it in the oven for an hour," she told her mom. That was the only seasoning she had ever seen her mother do. God Bless, Cheryl ----------------------------------------------------------------- ----------------------------------------------------------------- © 2003 Write 2 the Heart Nothing may be reproduced or published without the written permission of the individual author or copyright owner. All rights belong to the authors.