Finger Ice

The whirring sound in the kitchen added to the ambiance of the warm and loving environment.  It was my last hours of this two week visit in Indiana and I was surrounded by people that I love and who love me.  A little person with a gift of hospitality offers me a boiled egg.  Her Mother comes over laughingly to rescue the egg that actually belonged to little person's little sister.  Running back to the sink and undaunted, I follow little person who takes a chunk of the white of her very own boiled egg in her hand and shares it with me.  I enjoyed every morsel in front of her and I could tell by her face that my acceptance and enjoyment pleased her to no end.  Doggie ran here and there soaking in all the energy and wanting to be right in the center of wherever it was.  Friends talking and their familiar voices always bring me a sense of comfort and well-being.  It's warm inside and glad for it on this crisp cold night.  The lights are dim except for the brighter light in the kitchen.  And the whirring sound coming from the little ice machine to the left of the sink produces ice with a little rounded hole in the bottom center just big enough to place onto little fingers.  "Finger ice" is what the little person's little sister smilingly called it in her usual sparkling self.  Her eyes wide with wonder.

I was served a glass of water by these hospitality gifted little ones and my drink was teeming with the cute little cubes. My son was served a glass of finger ice water too.

It's hard to leave this warm and welcome home each visit.  This time, the children knew I was leaving and clung to my legs as I held on to them and I shuffled to the door so as to take them with me.  And they seriously would have been fine with that.  At least they think they would have been.  For a day maybe.  

And last hug for sweet friend who is always an oasis in a desert.  Her love is always vibrant and anointed.  I always wish I'd have hugged these precious people just a little longer.

Door closed behind my son and I and we made our way along the familiar path alongside their home....a path I've walked up and down so many times.  The moon was large and bright that night as if to kiss this last visit with it's mesmerizing moonlight.  And then backing the car away, I always look back for one last glimpse before I can no longer see their home.  And try so hard not to let the tears fall and pretend it was just a visit and soon I'll see them again.