last night my dad was boppin' around with a picture and an old book of poems. when my mom asked what he was doing he responded:
"i'm doing an activity with courtney."
???
this guy!
he then proceeds to tell me to "listen to this poem while looking at this picture."
between the dark and the daylight,
when the night is beginning to lower,
comes a pause in the day's occupations,
that is known as the children's hour.
i hear in the chamber above me
the patter of little feet,
the sound of a door that is opened,
and voices soft and sweet.
from my study i see in the lamplight,
descending the broad hall stair,
grave alice, with big brown eyes,
and edith with golden hair.
a whisper, and then a silence:
yet i know by their merry eyes
they are plotting and planning together
to take me by surprise.
a sudden rush from the stairway,
a sudden raid from the hall!
by three doors left unguarded
they enter my castle wall!
they climb up into my turret
o'er the arms and back of my chair;
if i try to escape, they surround me;
they seem to be everywhere.
they almost devour me with kisses,
their arms about me entwine,
till i think of the bishop of bingen
in his mouse-tower on the rhine!
do you think, o blue-eyed banditti,
because you have scaled the wall,
such an old mustache as i am
is not a match for you all!
i have you fast in my fortress,
and will not let you depart,
but put you down into the dungeon
in the round-tower of my heart.
and there will i keep you forever,
yes, forever and a day,
till the walls shall crumble to ruin,
and moulder in dust away!
- henry wadsworth longfellow
after the "activity" my grandma mentioned she wished it was like that always. my dad said "it is! in our memories." which in turn brought to my mind this quote from jesus the christ:
an important element in this splendid elucidation of the truly blessed state is the implied distinction between pleasure and happiness. mere pleasure is at best but fleeting; happiness is abiding, for in the recollection thereof is joy renewed. true happiness is lived over and over again in memory, always with a renewal of the original good; a moment of unholy pleasure may leave a barbed sting, which, like a thorn in the flesh, is an ever-present source of anguish. happiness is not akin with levity, nor is it one with light-minded mirth. It springs from the deeper fountains of the soul, and is not infrequently accompanied by tears. have you never been so happy that you have had to weep? i have.
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