From the Cobwebs: Freudian Writings

 I found these two in my emails, actually.  One was inspired by a dream I had and one was inspired from the one inspired by the dream. Ha!  They were written in the Summer of 2006, if memory serves.  Anyway, here they are:

2031 A.D.

I was in the kitchen trying to get to the stove , but he was purposefully getting in my way. "Gideon, honey, please... I need to stir the rice before it burns." He put his hands on my shoulders and stopped me with a teasing look. I looked up at him, trying diligently to disguise the laughter that was bubbling up inside of me with a feigned look of annoyance. It was a difficult task, however, because the laughter in his eyes was infectious.
I looked up at him with love, my eyes roving over his features which, although they were ever-changing, I had long ago memorized. I reached up to push the auburn hair out of his eyes. "You need a haircut," I started to say to him, but stopped and smiled instead. The carelessness of his shaggy locks made him look so young. I looked up into his brown eyes. They were still smiling at me, in the same endearing and youthful way they did the day I met him 22 years ago. The freckles which were brushed across his nose and cheeks gave him such a familiar look. Many members of my own family were blessed with those same angel kisses.
When I finished my perusal of him, I looked back into his eyes and felt such an intense ache of love for him. He smiled back at me and wrapped his long arms around me in a tight hug. His chin rested quite cozily on the top of my head. It always amazed me that he could do it. It seemed almost wrong (but not really) that he could be so tall. He placed his hands back on my shoulders and pulled away from me, smiling still. He placed a kiss on my forehead and said with affection, "I love you, Mom." Then he turned around to the stove and stirred the rice.

And for this one...I realized today that the year in which it is 'set' is THIS year.  Interesting...Interesting.

2021 a.d. 

The bunk beds were placed around the perimeter of the cabin and our two bunks had been placed perpendicular to each other in the front corner. I was lying on my stomach with my head near the open window at the foot of the bed. My cheek rested on a pillow which was summer cool and soft. I held her small hand in mine, and as I gazed at her sleep softened face, the wind teased the hair at her temple into a brief dance. 
My eyes roamed over her face. She was just so beautiful. Her auburn hair was a family tradition, of sorts. My hair, as well as my mother's hair, had that exact same brownish-red hue to it, but on her, somehow, it looked more beautiful, by far, than ours. Her pale face was dotted with freckles of varying shapes and sizes. She reminded me so much of her brother, Gideon, who had turned 11 the previous September. 
The two of them brought such joy into my life, just at the time when I was beginning to lose hope. Gideon made his debut just after my 40th birthday, and Emma-belle followed him almost four years later, in May, just before her PaPa's birthday. They were both so precious to me. At times, it absolutely amazed me that I had played any part at all in creating these two wonderful treasures. 
Their father was my friend long before we decided that we loved each other. We were part of a group of young people who worshiped, played, laughed, and cried together. Some people thought we were an odd match, but the friendship and respect that we felt for each other just naturally grew into something "infinitely more dear" and we just could not ignore it any longer. We married two winters before Gideon arrived and four years later came our little Beauty to complete the family. The years have flown by so swiftly, and it is hard for me to believe that my baby is eight years old and that we are here at Camp Hensel, together, experiencing the wonder and fun of being a camper through her fresh and inexperienced eyes. 
The wind blew in again through the window screen, awakening me from my wool-gathering. As it did, Emmabelle sighed in her sleep and turned over to face the wall, inadvertently removing her hand from mine. For a moment, I felt bereft without the warmth of her hand in mine. I decided that I was going to have to get used to this feeling. My son had grown older and taller and he seemed to need me less and less these days. I knew that I would have to endure the same loosening of the apron strings with my little Emmie, too. 
As I pushed the errant tendrils of hair away from her face, I decided that I wouldn't dwell on it too much. I had a few more days...weeks...months...perhaps even years of her adoration. I'd just take what I could get for now, knowing, from my own experience, that both of them would come back around eventually. 
I turned over onto my back so that I could try to get a little nap myself before the rest period ended. I smiled to myself and drifted off to sleep as I heard her murmur "Mommy" in her sleep.