I was very touched last night when my son asked me to read him a story. Not any kind of story. One that I wrote! He remembered that I did a writing workshop last year. So I read him this story. It’s about one of the wonderful hikes my father took us on when we were living in Westchester, New York. He was a nature lover and spoiled us with camping trips, hikes, skiing and ice-skating. Some of the most beautiful state parks are found in upstate New York. My love for nature began there, and especially in a place called Bear Mountain. We went there very often.
The story is also about a part of my life when childhood was still happy and carefree, when all we had to worry about was …well there wasn’t much we had to worry about actually. We didn’t have much homework, we had less school hours, we could freely go to the neighbors house to play and have some cookies and milk, we had so much free time to play in our playroom, and nobody told us to clean it! When I think of all the things we ask of our children today, I feel a bit guilty.
Here’s the story and that’s it for now. It’s a beautiful week-end and we are going out on a hike too!
The bear by me…