“I’ve learned that you shouldn’t go through life with a catcher’s mitt on both hands; you need to be able to throw some things back.” (Maya Angelou) on the path least traveled…

Diary of the journey on the path least traveled..just letting the heart do the talking while the fingers do the walking while being different, being me… 🙂

Me 1 copy

( “I do not do, say or write something to been seen or heard… I do, say or write something because it needed to be done, said or written…” , no nominations please, just sharing thoughts while exploring life 🙂 )

This weekend is Father’s Day weekend and wonder how many father’s have found themselves in this situation… 🙂

On our little girls third birthday,
She got a sandbox, In the backyard to play.
Sand was everywhere as she play and she laughed.
I fussed at her, For it killed all the grass.

Chorus; It’ll come back, It’ll come back
Daddy don’t be mad, God and the rain will bring it back.

When our little girl, Just turned ten,
She got a bike to ride with all her friends.
She skinned both her knees, as she played and she laughed.
I fussed at her. For it killed all the grass.

Chorus;

When our little girl, Turned seventeen.
We built her a pool, In the backyard that spring.
All her friends came and they swam and they splashed.
I fussed at her, For it killed all the grass.

Chorus;

My wife and I sit on the porch alone.
As I look out across at my beautiful lawn
The house is quiet, There’s no children at play.
And I say to my wife.
“Honey If you’ll listen real close, You can still hear her say…”

Chorus;
Hello Diary,

It is a Friday, so far a pleasant day but there are storms again on the horizon for the next few days… taking time from preparing for the future to leave a few thoughts (may not be able to get online much this weekend)… sitting here with a spot of tea with Father’s Day on the horizon and thinking about all the children.. as with the way of all creatures, at some point in time they leave the nest… :

Unfortunately, for reasons us mere mortals cannot comprehend, some leave the nest far too soon…
The little toy dog is covered with dust,
But sturdy and stanch he stands;
And the little toy soldier is red with rust,
And his musket molds in his hands.
Time was when the little toy dog was new
And the soldier was passing fair,
And that was the time when our Little Boy Blue
Kissed them and put them there.

“Now, don’t you go till I come,” he said,
“And don’t you make any noise!”
So toddling off to his trundle-bed
He dreamed of the pretty toys.
And as he was dreaming, an angels song
Awakened our Little Boy Blue,–
Oh, the years are many, the years are long,
But the little toy friends are true.

Ay, faithful to Little Boy Blue they stand,
Each in the same old place,
Awaiting the touch of a little hand,
The smile of a little face.
And they wonder, as waiting these long years through,
In the dust of that little chair,
What has become of our Little Boy Blue
Since he kissed them and put them there.
(Eugene Field)

And at some point in time some grow their wings and fly away to follow their destiny..

Little folks are people too
Very much like me and you
The little things they say and do
They kinda make your day
Foolishness and common sense
Through the eyes of innocence
Skip a rope or jump a fence
Gettin’ in the way

Daddy, why are you so tall?
Daddy, why am I so small?
Daddy, who makes snowflakes fall?
Could it be the Lord?
Chasing puppies, climbin’ trees
Bumping heads and skinnin’ knees
It’s not very hard to see
That kids are God’s reward

Little folks get down and out
The girls will cry and boys will pout
Before you know what it’s about
They’re smiling once again
Colored kites on summer breeze
Jingle Bells and Christmas trees
Too soon they’re only memories
Do you remember when?

Daddy, what makes eagles fly?
What makes clouds float in the sky?
And Daddy, if I really try
Will I grow up someday?

But little folks slip through our hands
Like so many grains of sand
You’d best enjoy them while you can
So soon they fly away…

And there are some that do not have a father (or mother) and as a sustaining guardian of the Cunningham Children’s home, hopefully I can give them some hope that they will realize their dreams on this Father’ Day (and every day).. “Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul – and sings the tunes without the words – and never stops at all.” Emily Dickinson

cunnigham

Well, I had better close for now.. Have my own dreams to follow…“All one can do is know happiness by following ones dreams, being led by one’s heart, and it is up to the rest of the world to accept or not” but I shall return again one day, Fate be willin’ and the creeks don’t rise…

In spite of the storms, me and the rest of the children (along with the poets, dreamers and lovers) will be looking for that rainbow connection and the path to our destiny… 🙂

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10 thoughts on ““I’ve learned that you shouldn’t go through life with a catcher’s mitt on both hands; you need to be able to throw some things back.” (Maya Angelou) on the path least traveled…

    • Thank you for stopping by and kind wishes!!… I’m afraid the only sun this weekend will be the lights in the house…. 🙂

      Have a pleasant weekend filled with love and happiness… 🙂

      Like

  1. there are so many beautiful tidbits in this post and I enjoyed everyone………each song brought a tear to my eye and your poem is just beautiful. Thank you for blessing others, the kiddos you helped are so very thankful!

    Liked by 1 person

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