In my absence

I found a new band love. On NPR on the way home 2 nights ago I heard these guys. Bought the album last night.


White Winter Hymnal from Grandchildren on Vimeo.

I had a good amount of time to listen since I was on my way home from Mom's house. Tricia, Mom and I had gotten together for the day to sit around the table, eat and just be us. It was wonderful. We got a little bit of work done, like Tricia trimmed Mom's hair and Tricia got a small back rub... but overall, it was boring hours of around the table bliss. I put my first heel in a sock... badly. I forgot to take a picture, and have already ripped it out for a do over. I am considering it the practice heel. (short row for those of you who are wondering)

Anyway, about twilight Tricia headed out and I had Mom show me her garden. We watched for mosquitoes, and never saw any, but she was right... apparently I was found 5 times. *sigh* I'm still feeling the visit. In looking around though, it struck me how much the land had changed from what I remember as a child. The pasture where we raised a few cows is now an overgrown forest. The barn where we kept chickens is being torn apart by vines and encroaching trees. The front end is already gone. The church pew on the front porch is gone as is the old apple tree. In it's place in the back yard several full grown trees have made an appearance. It struck me that telling John and the kids stories of my childhood are just as much a far away place as his stories. They say you can't go home again. I guess it's really true, in the sense that the land I knew so very well is completely changed in my absence.

My new friend, Amber (who I met via an Etsy purchase from her husband), and I were talking a few weeks ago about her homeschooling her 5 boys and about how she takes them to the park to explore... not for the nature center or playground, but to have a sense of place, a knowledge of a place, to know the land and how it changes with the seasons. I realized that I had that growing up in York, almost by accident. I knew all of the back yard. The grape vines and the scuppernongs, the blackberry bush where the rabbits family lived. It's all gone. You could see the pond, but now the view is completely blocked. Somewhere in there Happy 2 is buried along with Dutchess. Happy 3 is under the pecan tree by the house. The cats always ran off to die a dignified death on their own. Time changes, moves on. You really can't go back. Kids grow up. They wean. First from the breast, and then from your home.

I'll stop boring you now with my looking behind me. It's time to look forward again.