. . . When I Closed My Eyes The mid-afternoon sun fell through the upstairs window onto the comfy chair. Finding the invitation irresistible, I sat down, leaned back, and closed my eyes. Blanketed in sunshine, I fell into a false sleep through which I could hear the pitter-patter of production all around. When the little girl with golden hair shrieked and fell from the top of the garage, landing with a thump, I considered opening my eyes. Instead, I scrunched them tighter. The clanging of the firetruck assured me help was coming. The girl would pull through fine as ever as she always did, perhaps with a new scratch or two. The clatter of cars lining up was the next sound to invade my not-quite-nap. The orange-haired girl with freckles would be manning the red open-wheel racer. The boy with the orange ball cap and permanent smirk would drive the yellow prototype. Owners who never left their assets would drive those remaining cars. I didn’t have to look to know. The engines rumb...
For the past two days, I have been doing something new, yet also old. Twenty-four years ago, my husband gave me a beautiful cross-stitch project for my birthday. Our family had just moved to the Netherlands, and we were living in a hotel waiting for the home we planned to rent to become available. The owner of the home liked renting to military families and had a knack for lining up new tenants before the old ones moved out. The home was worth the wait; it remains one of my all-time favorite standouts from our many moves. The long-term hotel we were staying in, however, was not close to town, and our family had only been allowed to bring one car overseas. My husband needed it for work, so our three sons and I were somewhat hotel-bound. Furthermore, we only had the belongings we had carried in our suitcases for entertainment. We made good use of the library on weekends to keep us occupied throughout the week. The cross-stitch project was something I could do whenever the boys were eng...