August 28

There's a Jason Aldean song called Tattoos on this Town that likes to run through my head now and again. (It runs on a very tiny treadmill.) In a very small nutshell, it's about making the proverbial mark on your hometown.

I'm not sure what it is that draws me to that song, because it's not like I have tight ties to any particular town. I moved several times as a child, and though I always lived in the same general vicinity, I wasn't one of those folks who spent 18 cozy years on the same street with the same neighbors. I wish that was my reality, because it feels like that kind of life would be such a safe, comfortable, reliable, stable blessing.

But just because it wasn't my reality doesn't mean it won't happen for my kids.

With allllll of that said (and you get a cookie if you're still with me), I'll get to the point of this entry and address the very odd photo over there to the left. The Little Boys made a literal mark on our town a few days ago. For some reason --and I will never figure out the logic behind this move-- the city decided that Monday, the first day of school, would be the perfect day to lay fresh cement on a joint along the sidewalk that runs next to the local playground. Before I knew what had happened, Brady stepped right in the not-yet-fully-set cement, leaving a sandal print behind. Then a moment later, before I could stop him, the heel of Isaac's shoe made an impression of its own.

After getting over the mortification that accompanies watching your kids deface public property, we went home. And I forgot about it. But then this morning, as I passed the spot and saw the faint but now permanent foot and heel prints, I stopped and took a photo.

Because it's a huge blessing that though I wasn't able to make much of a mark of my own as a child, my kiddos can leave their tattoos on this town.