Welcome to the blog of writer Larry D. Sweazy. Larry is the multiple award-winning author of twelve mystery and Western novels and a freelance indexer. Email contact: firstname.lastname@example.org
Tuesday, June 4, 2013
There are things we carry with us all of our lives if we're lucky. I have many treasures from my childhood situated around my house that make it comfortable, home for me. I can't remember a time when the birdbath in this picture wasn't at my grandparent's house. First in the house I lived in after I was born, and later when they retired and moved north. No matter where my grandparents went, the birdbath went with them. It's heavy, solid concrete, a challenge to move. I've written more than once that my love for birds, for nature, started with my grandparents. This picture of me with my grandmother is one of my favorites. After my grandparents passed away, my mom took the birdbath home with her, then gave it to me. When we moved into an apartment, I gave it back to my mom. Luckily, after she passed, along with her husband, the birdbath ended up back with me where it belonged, instead of left at the house where the new owners wouldn't care for it like I do. I am grateful to have it. It needs painted and repaired for the season, and I'll get to that soon, but it is a relic of my past, of days gone by, of yards, and play, and perfect pictures, and memories, and all of their ornaments. The birdbath is big and bulky, and might seem out of place to some, but for me, it lets me know that I'm home.