My First Small Stones.

I haven't slept yet, so in my twisted little mind, it's still New Year's Day... Here goes, my first small stones, a continuation of Thanksgiving reflections...

As I looked at the large picture window in my living room, lamenting, again, the almost solid pattern of little hand prints about 15" up from the sill, wondering if I would ever be able to keep that window clean again... I wondered at how quickly my daughter became 36... How it was possible I am 56, and how my mother, who was laying in ICU just two days earlier in Minnesota could possibly be 78. I realized that every hand print on the window was a precious indicator of my grandaughter's growth, her intelligence and curiosity about the world around her and that all to soon she would no longer be two, but grown and gone. The messy window isn't important, but the hands that made all those prints... They are my world right now.