Five little children scurried around the kitchen, their bare feet squeaking on the tile floors, and their laughter filling up the home. They seemed to be playing a game of tag, racing each other around the house, screaming in excitement, or yelling in pain.
It really didn’t matter, as long as they were having fun. Children would be crying, but then the rest of them would reassure that everything would be okay, and the game would resume. The kids would be laughing, or hugging each other. They were having a great time together, but then the parents decided to play the game.
The children, frightened at the heights of the parents, screamed and scrambled away, hiding, and never wanting to be found.
But the parents were nice, and enjoyed playing the game of tag, once the kids began to open their shell, and join the rest of the family.
That was my life.
A game of tag.
I was one of the children, grasping for something to hold on to, but then another child would cry, and my heart would be broken. The child would stop, and my hopes were lifted back up. I would laugh in happiness, only remembering the good thoughts, or I would hide in fear, for someone was bigger than me, stronger than me.
But this also resembled my family. My family that began, and grew only a year after my marriage. We had our ups and downs, like every family had, but most of all, we wanted to teach our children to love.
Because Bennett and I learned that the greatest gift from God is love.
It’s as simple as that.
“Mommy, look at me!” exclaimed a little boy, around the age of three, dangling off the ground with his older brother, Thomas, who was nine years old, holding him by the feet.
“Now, Thomas. I don’t want you to drop him.” I said, sternly.
“I won’t mom. I’m fine. He even said so himself.” He said, but then started to talk like a boy, imitating his younger brother, William. “If you drop me, I’ll take the blame.”
I laughed. My kids could sometimes be so strange!
“Okay, boys. But go to the carpet. I don’t want William falling on wood, you understand?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Thomas said.
I looked at William, his bright blue eyes shining, and his face turning a bright shade of red.
“Yes, ma’am.” He groaned. “Now can I get down? My face feels funny.”
Thomas marched out of the kitchen and to the living room, swinging William’s head in all directions, and he threw him on the couch.
“That was fun! Can you do that again?” William asked, enthusiastically.
“Why do you guys keep doing that? You’re going to kill him, you know that right?” said another girl, walking into the living room. She had short blonde hair, with little freckles on her cheekbones, and was wearing a purple sundress. She was holding a little baby in her hands, Susan, who was just barely a year old, and whose hair just started to grow.
“I won’t kill him, Linda. Look, he wants me to do it!” Thomas lifted his hands up in the air, and shrugged his shoulders.
“Here, take Susan and I’ll get William. I’ll teach this crazy boy something.” Linda said, smirking.
YOU ARE READING
My Guardian Angel
Ficción históricaBridget May Keiner had loved every minute of her life. Living in farm town Attica, Kansas, she had learned that the best thing in life was family. She had tons of pets, a great big family, and a best friend. Everything seemed to be going well until...
