This morning I woke to the sounds of doves.
Isn't is facinating how sounds, pictures, taste and touch can generate memories. The dove songs of this morning brought back memories of visiting my Grandpa and Grandma in Illinois. The town of Akin is small. One stop sign, one grocery/postoffice, and two churches. Waking at Grandpa's was always a quiet occurence. The sound of the doves was all you heard. The soft cooing served as your alarm clock. A gentle gradual stir to start the day. You did not hear semi's traveling on a highway, no train whistles, very little traffic from the towns population heading off to work. Most of the people living in Akin are older folks. I remember Grandpa sitting on the old church pew located between two trees, to provide shade, waving to community residents as they passed by. Sometimes people would stop and sit and chat for a spell. No one is in a hurry. There is really no place to go. The town may have been a small community, but we always found lots to do, be it pounding on the piano, playing with Rita from across the street, or exploring the neighborhood. Memories spurred by the doves song.
I often reminisce of Saturday's in 'the house across the road'. We would anxiously await Dad to come home from working until noon, we frequently had hot dogs, Fig Newtons, and chips for lunch, Sky King would be on the TV, and the sun would be shining in the open front door. It is the suns bright light that stirs my remembrance. We three girls had a very simple ideally innocent childhood. Laughter, sistership, pure childhood play filled our days. Saturday's, with the open front door and morning sunshine, will always bring a smile to my heart. We had no worries, we had parents that allowed us to be, and we were fiercely protected. I have a sad heart for todays children. They miss the innocence of childhood as I knew it. I am so thankful to have been born when I was and to have had parents that loved us so much to provide a home rich in love.