If I were a ham sandwich…….   I would have lettuce, tomato, Cheese, mustard, bacon, ham……….

              A young boy was hungry and began to make a ham sandwich.  As the Young child gathers the ingredients to make a ham sandwich he thinks of what he wants on it. I watch as He gathers the lettuce, and breaks off a few leaves and sets them on a plate he had set there previously.  After he puts the head of lettuce back he grabs a tomato, he reaches into a drawer and pulls out a knife, and he gently cuts into the tomato squirting tomato juice all over.  I see red tomato juice on the counter.

              While she wrote she got a feeling of energy like it was rejuvenating her, giving her power.  She looked up to see Jebous staring at her with loving eyes, She smiled and began writing again.  Tate wrote for hours, she was done for the day.  She looked up at Jebous and asked him, “How did you sleep?”  “Good, how long have you been up?”  “For a while I was just writing.  Come with me.”  She said to him.  They walked outside she wanted to show him something.  They went to the spot where she hid her box and sat down it wasn’t long before the deer saw Tate, and walked right up to her.  Jebous saw what was going on and was amazed.  She told him to reach out to the deer, as he did the deer started to lick him.  Jebous enjoyed this very much. 

              Tate and Jebous would enjoy doing things like this together for years to come.  Every day they would go and visit the deer.  They got to see it grow up and have a baby of its own, time passed on and new things were seen.  Trees fell and new ones grew. Years had passed; many different animals came and went.  Time seemed to move on forever.  When Tate first arrived, there was a little stream, now the tiny stream has turned into a flowing river.  The river is filled with all sorts of life; fish, frogs, turtles, and much more.  The turtles reminded Jebous of Tate’s first days.  He started to miss the things he did before Tate had arrived.  He thought about the things he created and would sell in the town, he hadn’t been there in years, what would they think of him. Would they even recognize him?  A few days went by and he still had these thoughts, so he asked Tate about them, but she was so in tuned to her writing, and the feeling she got from doing so, she didn’t hear him.