The Sound

The morning air still had a bit of summer as an ingredient but the slow motion approach of autumn now mingled in the mix. The sunshine began a deliberate intrusion onto our back deck. A September Saturday was coming to life.

I came here with a bowl of cereal on this day. I ate this for my breakfast while looking out onto the still green leaves on the trees that served as the backdrop behind the deck screen. After finishing I sat alone with my thoughts.

There are always numerous things to think about whenever a quiet moment comes around. Concerns about family and friends find their way to the forefront. Work issues creep in at times. Sometimes some national or world issue presses down hard. Now and then, old memories march through.

During this time when the sun silently stretches its rays, sometimes it is simply good to sit and listen. I tried this on this Saturday.

I heard squirrels chase each other through the trees down in the woods. In the distance, a dog barked. He was up early I thought. Even further in the distance, what sounded like a motorcycle revved its engine. I tried to measure the distance it was away from me. I heard it for a good five minutes. It sounded like it was riding from one red light to the next red light, miles away. In between stops, the noise was nearly as if it were outside on the street. Since it sounded so loud miles away, I wondered how loud it sounded right next to it. Surely, the rider suffered from hearing loss once he got to his destination.

When the motorcycle faded away, an airplane passed overhead. A quiet, constant hum blended into the background almost as soon as it started. When it left, I could hear the wind ruffling the leaves on the trees a few times.

As time moved on, I knew I could not stay here all day. There were things to do. In time, the sun’s rays would warm up the deck. All the noises of the early morning would be replaced with more of what I had already heard along with other noises like lawnmowers and weed-eaters and more traffic and people outside talking and moving around.

I am not sure how long I sat there. It was no more than a few minutes though. While I tried to just relax, from time-to-time, some of those concerns from life, still showed up.

Another thing kept showing up during this time. The birds kept singing. They chirped. Some flew overhead outside. Sometimes, it sounded as if they were carrying on a conversation with each other. They did not seem to be weighed down with the world’s cares.

There is a lesson there somewhere, isn’t there?

Look at the birds. They don’t plant, harvest, or save food in barns, but your heavenly Father feeds them. Don’t you know you are worth much more than they are?
-Matthew 6:26

The Long Haul

It has been a long haul in one sense. The time covers parts of six different months, March, April, May, June, July, and now August. If I counted every one of the days between the two points the number would be over 150. Now, at least for the immediate days ahead, I can stop numbering them.

I was scheduled to return to work this week after being away from my physical office for over five months. An unexpected minor health issue kept me away where I continued to work from home. I am thankful I remained employed at this time. I am equally grateful I could work from home during this time. These extended days were different than all the ones which came before though.

Almost every one of these days from March into August, Hannah was home with me. Jennifer continued to report to her work, so most days it was me, her and our cat, Kayla. At first, Hannah had homework to do daily which divided my time and attention. Hannah’s niece was able to bear part of that load for a time, so we are eternally grateful for her help.

Later, after Hannah’s school year ended, her scheduled summer camp canceled. Suddenly, her summer vacation was here in our house. While I planned some fun things to do, we were limited by parks and businesses being closed. That mingled in with my daily workload. We had our moments though. We used sidewalk chalk to decorate a backyard stump. We made a homemade lamp with water, a waterproof light, and a jar of beads. We even cooked smores in the heat of July’s sun. Some days, her neighborhood friend came by to stay for a few hours. We had some fun and laughs. Hopefully, some of these times will be long remembered by Hannah. Still, I cannot help but think how difficult the loss of our routine was at times for all of us.

Now, though, Hannah has returned to school. She can see her friends once again. She can bond with her teachers. She can learn new things.

On the last day, we were together before these days at home ended, I was swamped with work. It seemed as if I could not keep from falling behind. Hannah took it easy watching some movies. I felt the same feeling I have felt for over 150 days. I was torn between family and work knowing there was no easy resolution to the guilt I felt since it is so hard to find just the correct balance in such a situation. On this day, the choice was the same as it was so many days behind us, I could not spend a lot of time with Hannah or else the work piled higher.

After a phone meeting, I knew our mail had probably been delivered. I thought, at least we could go to the mailbox together, as we had done most of the days we had shared through the summer. I walked into the living room, glanced out the window only to notice the rain was coming down outside.

So much for that, I thought. Or, maybe not.

I then asked Hannah if she wanted to go to the mailbox. She said yes. We walked to the porch where she finally noticed the rain. I asked if she still wanted to go to the mailbox. She said yes. She even suggested we run to the mailbox in our bare feet. We looked at each other, smiled then ambled down the front steps breaking into a trot down the walkway into the driveway before stopping at the mailbox. I heard Hannah laugh and squeal as we ran. Fortunately, we did not slide or fall or knock each other over.

I opened the mailbox. Junk mail. The rain continued to fall.

We then turned, making our way back up the driveway, walkway, and steps in our half running-half jog. We stopped on the porch, with drenched shirts and wet hair. We laughed at ourselves and at each other.

We then noticed our wet footprints. Of course, the initial footprints were made just by reaching the safety of the porch. We chuckled at the funny shapes the footprints made. Hannah placed her feet on top of my footprints amazed at the size difference. After we examined these first footprints, they began to dry and fade away. We then walked down the steps to wet our feet again. We made our way back onto the porch so we could make more footprints.

This was a nice break for ten minutes. For Hannah, the moment was over. There is only so much you can say about a wet footprint. For me, I sensed work piling up behind my back. The push-pull of the past five months was once again providing just enough tension to weigh heavily on me.

It is too early to tell how these few months will be remembered for our family unit. Surely, we will pick out some of the fun or odd times we all experienced so we can look back and laugh. Maybe, the strain and stress that was present will slip away over time.

Hannah is too young now to understand the daily struggle I felt to balance my workday with her life. I tried not to let that pressure show. Still, it was there. I also know that battle is a heavy memory I cannot turn loose yet. I will live with it until I can reconcile it in my heart and my head. Maybe, at some point, it will stop leaning on me as much as it does now.

I can only hope that maybe sometime in the future, Hannah will see her wet footprints again then remember these days just now passed. Maybe, for a moment, it will take her back to a muggy August afternoon when she raced her dad to the mailbox in a late summer rain. And, maybe, it will make her smile and think how those days were good ones. And, maybe, she will marvel how memories are often made with little notice. Maybe she will appreciate how the same memories can fade into time like wet footprints drying before your very eyes. And, maybe she will come to understand how these memories mysteriously remain for life's long haul lingering close by to be recalled when they are needed the most.

Road Trip: Cruising to Carolina

Growing up, I don't recall our family taking what some would consider a vacation. We rarely went to the beach or to some far-off city for a week away. That did not mean we stayed home all the time. Being the youngest child, and a bit younger than my siblings, our vacation was visiting family who had moved away.

When she was barely out of high school, my sister fell in love with a local boy who had already graduated college and started his own career. Even though he was local, his career took him into the pencil-thin tall pines of upstate South Carolina. When they married, my sister moved with him there, two hundred miles away. That four-hour trip by car soon became our several-time-a-year weekend trip away from home.

Through the years, my sister's family grew. First, a son, the first grandchild for my parents, then, a feisty daughter. My brother-in-law had dreams of his own. He wanted his own cattle farm. They bought land, built a brick house there and began putting up a fence to keep the cows from wandering too far away. These things alone were enough reason for my parents to want to visit there often. They could see their grandchildren, they could help on the house and farm, and, of course they could see their oldest child.

I do not recall how early in the week the planning was made for our journeys to South Carolina. I usually was clued in about it on Thursday sometime, a day ahead of when we would leave. For some reason now, years removed from then, whenever I hear the theme to the TV show, The Waltons, I think of going to visit my sister's family in South Carolina. I think that is because that show came on at 8 PM on Thursdays for years. It is probably around that time of day when my Mom told me to get whatever I planned to take with me on the trip together. Otherwise, she understood if she didn't give me some fair warning I would probably get home from school on Friday and just get in the car for the trip.

Most days, my Dad could be home from his job by 4 PM on a Friday. My Mom would have everything as ready as possible so that we could leave as soon as Dad got home. If we timed everything well enough, we could arrive at my sister's house by 8 PM on Friday evening.

Sometimes, my brother-in-law’s mother made the trip with us. She was like a third grandmother to me. She was a petite woman with a warm smile and infectious laugh. Despite her small size, everyone called her ‘Big Mama’. Her late husband, who had been a tall man, had been known as ‘Big Papa’. Often on these trips, Big Mama brought along an incredible stacked apple pie as desert. It had soft crust and the sweetest apple filling. It ranks as one of my favorite deserts ever. When I was old enough to go out on my own, Big Mama gifted me with a set of green dishes. One or two pieces of that set remain and I think of her every time I see them.

Once we were on our way, we traveled the same route for many years. Two lane roads across the mountains of north Georgia into the mountains of South Carolina. Most of the towns we drove through were just like our hometown. A few red lights here and there and a few places where the speed limit was reduced. The ride was amazing in autumn when the colors of the season were reflected in the trees. We kept plugging away. We rarely stopped for anything. We had a goal in mind and my Dad was determined to get us there safely but also as quickly as possible. It got us off the road but it also gave us precious time with family.

Once in South Carolina, we traveled through a few more towns and communities. Finally, we had to get on Interstate 75 for a time. A few miles down the road on the big freeway was a rest area. Nearly every trip I made with my parents we stopped at this rest area. It was bathroom break time but it was also time to eat. My mother, who was probably responsible for gathering together 98% of what we packed into our car had taken time to make egg salad sandwiches and to pack away a few "co-colas". This was supper. Then we loaded into the car and drove on for about another hour.

Soon we were pulling into the town that became home to my sister and her family. We looked for familiar guideposts along the way. We drove through town out to the farm. In the summer we got there before dark. We piled into their house where the air conditioning, a treat we did not have back home, sunk into our pores. It just always seemed hotter there than back home. In the winter, we might make the trip during the holidays. Between their visits back home and our visits there, we likely saw each other six or eight times during a year. We had to make the most of the time we shared.

After arriving, we visited for a time and made plans for Saturday. It could be any adventure the next day, riding motorcycles, chasing cows, deer hunting, going fishing, playing with my nephew and niece or riding to the nearby towns for shopping. We sometimes visited their neighbors, the sweet older couple down the road who adopted my sister's family as if they were their own or maybe the slightly cantankerous older lady across the road who was more soft around her edges than she often let others know.

As the day moved on, we usually had some sort of giant meal for supper. It could be steaks or chicken with fresh vegetables out of the garden. It was almost always topped off with a birthday cake if someone celebrated one around that time or watermelon or homemade ice cream or some other dessert my sister created or maybe some of Big Mama's apple pie.

As the day drew to a close, a slight feeling of the inevitable began creeping in. The next day was Sunday and that meant another road trip, this one from South Carolina back to our Georgia home.

Road Trip: Cruising to Carolina playlist:

Theme to The Waltons

Brett Shady "Waltz For A Girl In South Carolina"

Dionne Warwick "As Long As There's An Apple Tree"

Marshall Tucker Band "Heard It In A Love Song"

The Outlaws "South Carolina"

Goose Creek Symphony "Higher On The Mountain"

Reverend Gary Davis "I'll Fly Away"

Hootie and The Blowfish "Hold My Hand"

The Sandpipers "Come Saturday Morning"

John Fogerty "Almost Saturday Night"

Elf "Carolina County Ball"

James Taylor "Carolina In My Mind"