I have always referred to it as the year of Penelope and the Dandy-Lion War. If there was one day I could relive over and over, this would be the day.

It was less than a year since I moved in with my husband and his son. We were all still getting to know each other and working at creating a family. The pain of losing our first children together, the joy of creating new life, the sorrow of losing each other and the beauty that we would see together was still years in the future. It was just us three on one summer day.

We had a few chickens. And lest i forget, one very smart-very sneaky cat. Whcih was why in the end we ended up with three full grown chickens out of 25 baby chicks. One of them was a little red hen we named Penelope. She was always following us around waiting for handouts, or hiding from the cat.

This morning we woke up and ate bacon and eggs. The classic country breakfast. A little while after the sun peeked over the oaks, the dew dissapeared. The three of us hung out in the lawn, in the sun of early June, with the ever present Penelope chasing bugs around us.

Our son was 8 years old and just growing out of his chubby little boy face. He was smiling and happy, with dandylion fuzz landing in his dark hair, along with the sunshine highlighting his face so like his fathers.

We talked of lots of stuff that day. For hours we sat in the sun. How we all met, how it was funny Dad slipped on the snow and went head over heels. How I tried to spin a donut in the truck and got stuck in a snowbank. I don't believe there was a topic we didnt cover, including our dreams for the future.

Then one of us, I never remember who, threw the first dandylion. And the war was on. We tossed dandylions back and forth, then we were grabbing up handfuls of grass.

It was a scene like one you would see in a commercial. Mom and Dad and their son, wrestling around in the sun covered in grass and little smears of dirt on our faces and hands. Its funny looking back, how you can see things with such clarity. If you close your eyes, you can almost go back again. Back and smell the freshly cut grass, the rich earth beneath our feet, the lilacs in the front yard and the peat moss in the creek.

The slight breeze whispered through the pines as we were laughing. The old dog Hank panting on the porch step- to lazy to move to the shade, and that darn chicken clucking away madly at all the activity.

This one day, this day I could relive forever and avoid the pain of everything that would come in the next decade but then I would miss all the great things we would see and do and become together.

Yet, looking back, I am almost there again watching my husband and stepson in early June smile and laugh as though without a care.

Much has happened. The son is 20 years old now. So much of the little boy remains in his smile, yet he is a man now trying to make his way in the world. It has been 6 yrs since we lost the babies to misscarriage and learned how to live thru pain and anger and become the people we are today. Our oldest son together will turn four this year. Penelope is long gone, The sneaky cat still lays on the porch, her face long since gray. The oak trees must be at least another 10 feet tall, and the old pines watching us, will someday watch our childrens children as they play, and live and learn as we once did.