Angels seem to be my go-to photographs when we visit old cemeteries. This time I thought I’d change things up and show you the crosses.
I’m a small town girl raising a small town boy and you will never know how much that means to me.
I grew up in a big house on a corner block in a tiny farm town. Little Bit is growing up in a big house in the country near a tiny farm town on the opposite end of the state.
This week I was reminded of why I love where we live. Two days before the 4th of July parade, I asked Little Bit if he wanted to go to the parade. He told me he wanted to be in the parade.
In??? Oh man… I started scrambling around trying to figure out how I could pull that one off. I mean, the deadline for getting into the parade had already passed.
I got on Facebook and summoned my friends for help. Help came. Someone suggested calling the Chamber of Commerce, so I did.
When I explained our situation to a gal at the Chamber, I was met with nothing but kindness. In fact, she told me she’d never turn down a 10 year old boy.
Talk about small town America at its best! I can’t even get words around her welcoming gesture. She didn’t even know us!
At 9:45 am on July 4th, we got our place in line between a couple of floats. Little Bit made his parade debut riding his scooter next to other kiddos riding their bikes.
As we made our way through the streets towards our downtown square, I couldn’t help but feel a little nostalgic.
Families lined the streets to watch. It was pouring down rain but no one seemed to care. Kids were gathering candy. The high school band was marching and playing patriotic songs. Behind us was the Class of 1967.
Last October my husband took a job transfer and we were supposed to have moved by now. And though I’m fine with moving, I’m really glad we’ve stayed put.
After all, the parade alone has given me some wonderful memories and I know one day I will look back and smile as I remember my boy’s 10th childhood summer.