I took the day off, today, and Lisa and I went to visit her dad. He has been recuperating recently and it was good to have a chance to go to visit with him.
Of course, any trip to Union County takes Lisa and I close to our first home, a rental; the place we lived the first couple years of our marriage. I guess I hadn’t driven by the old place in a decade or more.
Today, on a pristine fall afternoon, after our visit, we decided to drive by.
In my mind, I still see a beautiful old farm house built around the time of World War II. I visualize shiny hardwood floors and immaculate French doors into the dining room. I remember the beautiful garden off to the east of the house - with rows and rows of vegetables laid off in perfectly symmetrical rows - beans, corn, okra.
I remember the spot where we buried Dave the Cat - still my favorite - after we found him in the road one day, the victim of a speeding car.
It’s funny how time etches a picture in your mind’s eye.
Though I can see all of that today, I actually saw none of it today.
The house burned, some time ago, and it is replaced by a trailer. And the side yard was also replaced by a trailer next to a house that now encompasses much of the picturesque vegetable garden.
Presumably, the site of Dave’s grave was left undisturbed but I have no idea if his stone is still there; the one I found along the creek bed at the back edge of the field behind the farmhouse.
In other words, nothing is the same.
Isn’t that how life really is? Fantastic foods you remember from childhood aren’t as tasty; the girl of your high school dreams isn’t as pretty as you remember; the bucolic pastureland is now filled with double-wides.
Today, I drove on country roads and found a surprising curve I wasn’t expecting.
JG
Originally posted 9/24/2012
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