Water Baby
The Street that was My World
In my mind I still can see the Street that was My World.
Looking out from the front porch windows, with the lace curtains gently swaying in the summer breeze.
My little desk, unsteady as it was, held a small light for early morning reading where I often read my Bible and prayed for my family.
Slowly, as the sun would rise so that the morning rays would steal across the the sidewalk on the corner, and the day would begin on the Street that was My World.
Neighbors out walking, or jogging, would sail on by like ships on a golden wave, and sometimes they would even look up and see me in the window.
We might wave, or if they weren’t in too much of a hurry, we might even exchange a “Good morning” greeting, but then they always kept on moving.
While it was still quiet, with the sun just peeking over the top of the hardware store, I heard the church bells chime the hour and then I knew it was time to get busy for the day.
All the things that a mama does, every day, year after year, seem like a mist rising from the spikes of grass, reaching up, up, up to capture the joy of Heaven.
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