I am sitting inside my home with the windows closed because of nearby pesticide spraying, and I hear the rain and wind outside, battering the house, the grass, the garden...and the wind-chimes.

I an energized and invigorated as the storm continues on its way, thunder and lightening punctuating every sentence. I remember playing in the rain storms, jumping in puddles and standing on the porch when the lightening and thunder arrived.

It's my Dad, I remember most, calling us outside to watch the lightening and see the sky when one or another amazing view presented itself. I remember, too, those nights after the rains, outside with flashlights to gather nightcrawlers. It was a wonderful ritual to share, one I didn't appreciate as much as I do now. I don't remember fishing the next day, and there are times I'm sure my father put the nightcrawlers back into the garden because he worked the next morning. With my mother I watched the meteors, rode snomobiles, and saw her come alive in nature during those times. I miss those days, the times we''ll only share in our memories now and then.

Those are the kinds of rituals that happen, and offer fond memories. And I think about our rituals, and how some were passed down. I call the kids out no matter the time, to see the aurora borealis or to enjoy the meteor showers. We garden together like my mother and I did, and I encourage the neighborhood kids to share our back yard and the garden. I watch my husband share stories and play with the kids and listen to the teenagers, and I hope we're building the kinds of memories that we both carry from our past.

My hope for everyone today is to look at the rituals of your life. Which do you share with your children? Is there something more you want to share with your children? Your partner? Anyone? If so, start today. There's something satisfying in knowing we're creating future happy memories.

Kim