If you look closely while visiting my childhood home, you’ll see the imprint of a kindergartner’s galoshes on the sidewalk leading to the front door.
That footprint has been there for 37 years. It even outlasted one of the home’s original owners, my late dad, Big Tom, who used to tease me about how 5-year-old Jody left his mark in 1976.
Knowing my dad, he probably got ticked off that I tromped on the fresh cement. Knowing my dad, he also probably occasionally looked down at that fading spot in the sidewalk as the years turned into decades, laughed to himself and then got teary-eyed thinking about exuberant young kids who used to run wild there. Bet my mom still does.
It’s easy to get mad at children when they do silly things like stepping in concrete that’s curing or decorating the house with Sharpies.
It’s also easy to get a lump in your throat and a smile on your face while fondly remembering all of the different ways they’ve left marks on your surroundings and your heart.
I thought about this concept Sunday night after barking at my 4-year-old son Aidan, [Read more…]