It's a fort making kind of day. I want to drape the old afghans over some
wooden chairs, bring all the sofa cushions in, a flashlight, a stack of books,
and You. It's a tent holiday of sorts, we can be anywhere and nowhere and
hide under the covers until the world disappears. Please read aloud to me
while I lay on my back and watch the world through granny square holes,
the light shifting across the wall and fading out as the sun kisses the horizon.
Please lets sing a bit together, a sweet little song that we know most
of the words to, if You have a guitar please strum along. Let's look at
picture books that make us want to draw and dream and play make believe.
I'll sneak out briefly to make us a pot of tea which we can drink in
mismatched china with chips on the side our lips don't touch. You bring in
a square of chocolate, a few slices of an apple sprinkled with cinnamon,
and an almond or two and and we can nibble them like chipmunks working
on their winter stores. I'll tell you the old stories, the ones that have been
passed down like silver, heart to heart to heart over the years.
You'll tell me yours. And when the late evening comes, let's hibernate here
like bears, until the yellow morning light comes peaking in.
Fort adventure dreams inspired by Julie Morstad's book, The Wayside.