It's not the destination, it's the doggie bones!

A few summers ago our granddaughter Josie introduced us to "doggie bones."  She had just turned three. We would set out for a walk to Capannari's Ice Cream or the library, or Central Continental Bakery, and she would be bursting with excitement, not about ice cream or cookies or books, but chattering about "doggie bones."  We soon learned this was what she called the squiggly bricks that pave the sidewalks of downtown Mt. Prospect. Doggie bones! How fun is that?

 

We live just down the street from the doggie bones. Out the front door, down the block, cross the street and joy of joys, DOGGIE BONES.

Walking together she holds our hands and can't get enough of "1.2.3. swing!" ...until she decides to let go and tries to keep up with her big sisters. But she's not in a hurry. There are treasures to find; fun to be had. Skipping along on the doggie bones she is secure and happy, surrounded by the people she loves and who love her to the moon and back. Josie finds fun and laughter wherever she goes.

As summer ends, I wonder as I did this time last year, will she still delight in the doggie bones next summer? How long will she see the world with such imagination and unbound joy?

I walk to work most days and a good part of my walk is on the doggie bones. Like Pavlov's dogs salivating when they hear the bell, when I reach these bricks my mood lightens. Thank you, Josie.