I Remember…

I remember the Lake House best,
Not so much the Farm House that came first.
I saw the Lake House get built
The summer I was seven.

I watched Grandpa push a
Wheelbarrow full of wet cement
Across the soon to be
Walkout basement floor.

He accidentally lost control
The wheelbarrow rolled
Spilling a gloppy, glumpy
Pile of cement goo.

Oh he was so mad!
So mad at himself that he
Cried big boy tears.
Grandpa felt feelings like me.

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Me and Grandpa and a dog at the farm in Clearwater, Minnesota.

I was born two days after his 61st birthday. I always felt a close, emotional bond with my Grandpa Peterson.

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Reading the evening paper together. I still read the newspaper every day.

Grandpa was a “do-it-yourselfer” who liked working with his hands. Me too! He also felt feelings strongly. Me too! I try to channel those feelings into my creative endeavors in healthy ways – though, when things go topsy-turvy, you just might find me struggling with big girl tears. It’s all part and parcel of living my life with ARTitude.

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