One last little taste of our 4th of July getaway to Lake Hamilton in Hot Springs to visit David’s dad.
Yes, that’s David on the jet ski towing Meghan, Joey and me around the little cove that we swim in, and yes, that is me laughing insanely in the background.
The kids and I are easily entertained, apparently.
Giggle, giggle, glug, glug, glug . . . ; )
After an evening filled with laughter over burgers and chicken fingers—
an evening filled with gentle teasing and pretend hurt feelings—
an evening filled with jokes that only the four of us “get”—
it’s only fitting that this was what kept us company as we headed home.
Sitting around the kitchen table, they told us stories of their childhood.
He told us stories of cows and Shady Town and of daddies coming back from the War.
She told us stories of imaginary friends and cutting up of dresses and of stolen drinks from pitchers of cream.
They told stories of little brothers and big sisters.
They told us stories of chores and of going to dances.
They told us stories of farm life and the Big City.
Stories of civil rights and asking for milk in a local bar.
They told us a story of meeting each other in the library, of a shy country boy meeting a not-so-shy sorority girl.
They told us a story of a wedding and of having two kids, then a third, after moving cross country in a red VW Beetle.
They told us a story filled with adventure, laughter, hardship and love.
Always, always love.
They told us a story of their life.