I remember little of being an 8 year old but one memory I do hold dear involves a Cherry Tree.

This particular Cherry Tree was in my Grandma Wolfe’s font yard.  While climbing the branches, my cousins and I would fill a huge bowl with the reddest, plumpest, juiciest cherries.

I loved to lay down on the grass in the sunshine, I would close my eyes and feel the warmth on my face.  I remember the sound of the wind through the trees.  I would eat cherries until my stomach hurt.

My cousins and I always picked cherries for Grandma and Grandpa.  I remember Grandma’s face when we would bring her the huge bowl, she was always so pleased when we placed it in her hands…Grandma’s eyes would shine with love, she would touch my face and kiss my cheek; her hands were wrinkled but her skin was so soft.

To this day, I still love cherries.  I love to lay down in the sunshine and I love to feel the sun’s warmth on my face.  I love the sound of the wind in the trees and when I close my eyes, I feel peace.

I now wonder if the peace I feel today is in part a remnant of the 8 year old child, lying in the grass with no real worries, feeling only the joy of childhood. I’d like to think so.


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