Adventures In An Oatmeal Sweater

This park bench would not appear to have a maginficent story of any kind. It's once protected and gleaming wood now carries grey hues reflecting its years of service. For years, it has offered a place for the tired to sit or the nervous to hide or the reflective souls to watch as others passed by. This park bench would not appear to be any different than the others nearby. Why then do the wooden slats seem to resonate energy as I sit upon its bench? An energy so intense it envelopes my senses; allowing me to smell the faint scent of mint soap - and feel the warmth of the sun on my back. The backrest curves around my shoulders - enveloping them the way a lover would. Closing my eyes I allow myself to be transported and remember snippets of a life so far removed from my present state it causes me to ponder if it happened at all- Casual strolls by the water; Locking eyes for the first time with someone that I am certain I've known for lifetimes before this one;

        "Agnes de Mille once said, "To dance is to be out of yourself. Larger, more beautiful, more powerful. This is power, it is glory on earth and it is yours for the taking," I laughingly said to my daughter as I curled her long brown hair into perfect curls. Abby looked up at me with eyes so like my own and said, " Mom, you're ridiculous but I love you anyway."  We were getting her ready for her first formal dance. I'm fortunate that my daughter is so easy going and only resisted the process for a short time. The fuss came about when I refused to let her wear her Converse with her ball gown. As we waited for Abby's escort to arrive I found myself in awe of how she has grown in the blink of an eye - without any warning at all it would seem. Simply put, the way she carries herself  is a silent expression to the world that she is quite certain of who she is, what she wants and where she is going. It seems like only a short time ago she was toddl

My daughter calls him Mister Orange Boogeyman That would be correct