Simple Pleasures by Susan

What I love the most about the Black River is I get caught up in a current like remembering the childhood angst of being bullied and I find myself side tracked.A swirling eddy sweeps me aside into the hidden depths of rememberance. I spent a couple of weekends at a friends cottage, Amber Lee Bayer, down in the Maritimes where I spent my formative years.The weekends lasted forever. The cottage itself is rather vague; just an impression of paneling and plywood and a melamine table with rusty chrome legs.What leapt to mind was the drive home. They drove a huge station wagon which was really cool because we got to lie down in the back. (Before seat belts were mandatory!) It was really late and we were supposed to be sleeping. As if! The two of us lay side by side snuggled underneath a musty, itchy old blanket. We cushioned our heads on folded arms that soon began to tingle. The car rattled and thumped over the gravel before finding smoother roads and settling into a drowsy hum. The two of us stared up through the back window at a fantastically unbelievable sky littered with millions of stars. The jeweled, magical night was hemmed in by scary, shadowy trees that reached over the road. It was a moment of complete and utter joy. "When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child." 1Cor 13:11