M-115
M-115
I haven't been on this road for years. I feel that old numbness from the shock of a life suddenly changed, suddenly unfamiliar. My fractured self, reeling under the severe shift in my position, yet amazed that so much around me has dared to remain constant. So many prayers, so many tears and confessions and sighs, so many years ago. Driving to my sister; driving away from confusion. Stunned by betrayal. Free to go where I wish. Free to go.
Behind me, breakfast with a beloved friend, at a Bob Evans. Bob Evans restaurants; they're all the same. My friend, delightfully, wonderfully himself. For a moment I forget what town I'm in, what time I'm in.
Behind me, a party for my mom. Amazement at how the years have changed us, how we have all grown in our own ways. Amazement at how we still connect in our same old ways. I'm nine years old, playing marbles in the driveway with my brother Billy. And, I'm forty-two, making lovey eyes with my great-nephew Devon.
Behind me, my hometown. Childhood, high school, salvation, swimming lessons, weddings, family, heritage. So much a part of me; so just a part of the me I am now.
I journey as a fragile vessel containing the riches of life past and life now; a tiny reflection of the eternity of the Maker, who was, and is, and who will be. Sometimes I notice.
Old roads are good for that.
2 Comments:
I've been writing about childhood stuff lately so I relate to your reflections of the past.
Your comment about how we seem to connect in our same old ways strikes me. I go to visit family and I feel like I'm 5 years old again. Sometimes I still behave like it too when I'm back in those old relationships.
I am probably going to a family reunion this summer, to see my dad's side of the family. I haven't seen them in years, and I wonder what that is going to be like. Everytime I go there, I am "little Steffie" again, so awkward, so shy, so unsure around all these people that I see only once every few years. My sister and I are once again referred to as "the girls", and time will seem to have gone backwards about twenty years.
And it all starts with the journey there, down those old roads that carry us to the places where we learned to be who we are. Somehow, in all of it, who we were and who we've become seem to mingle and get to know each other.
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