This Man

by cindy

In May, we accompanied the Rooster and his parents to the May Festival at his school. It’s been years since we went to a May Festival but attending this one at the same elementary school our children attended brought back many memories. Memories of being a young mother. Or of just being young, for that matter.¬†And memories of volunteering for this very event, volunteering for years in different capacities. Good years. Good memories.

Suddenly, cutting through my reverie, I heard the voice of Dear Dave, my husband, the father of my children, the love of my life, and all that blech. I heard him calling,

“Cindy! Come here! Come here! Quickly! Come here!”

I looked around, located him over by the playground and headed over to see what he wanted.

“Sit down. Sit! No, right here! Beside me! Closer! Here! Smile! I want to take a ‘stuffy’.”


“You know. A stuffy

And with that I realized he was aiming his big-ass super-duper digital camera, the one that requires a crane to lift, backwards toward the two of us.

“Dave, do you mean a selfie?”

“Whatever. SMILE!!!”