Fond Memories Of A Past Life
-----
As I am packing the kitchen to move, I am observing from the window my favorite time of year. The small yellow leaves falling to the ground send little squirrels scurrying for food.
I just saw a tiny gray fellow with a long piece of bark in his paws. He turned it from length to length inspecting it for I know not what. Edibility, I suppose. He would chew--and then turn it to inspect it some more.
That reminds me…. Since we've sold the house, we've not been diligent to put out birdseed. Instead, we've been looking for another house with the character and personality of this one. Such a house does not exist, so we have stopped looking.
We are buying a new house... one without the mysterious cubbyholes, nooks and crannies of "Titteen Morningside." Beginning at age two, that's how our little son Barrett pronounced "fifteen" for several years. Although he's outgrown the habit, my husband and I have not. I fear that we are incurably romantic, softhearted, nostalgic and sentimental. In other words, we are total wimps... not much good for this world's times and epochs.
Most of the best years of our lives were spent here. We once had another life in another house with our daughter Jenny, but this is the only home our son remembers. We have lived full and happy lives here, all interspersed with the normal sad times of life itself and of rearing children.
To have taught my son Barrett his entire life was the most joyous experience possible. How I will miss the cool days he would look out, open the window and exclaim in that precious voice of his, "Oh, what a glorious fall day this is, Mommy!"
So many thousands of books have been read aloud and enjoyed, so many hugs and kisses have taken place, so many words of love and affection have passed from room to room that I expect the very best for you.
And somewhere in the backyard is buried a "time capsule" made of a plastic peanut butter jar. If you should uncover it, please call us.
It should not surprise you that I write this with tears in my eyes. I am looking back at my life. Our son was once a baby, and he will be 22 next month. It does no good to look too long in the past because there is more time behind me than there is left before me.
I must go forward, and that means moving to a one-level house for these old knees and those of the young man I married... the young man I have watched grow into an old man.
Oh, new Titteen Morningside people, be happy here!
----
And I pray the same for the old Titteen Morningside people.
Copyright 2002 James McAlister
Comments
Post a Comment