Domains for Sale -

Memory Lane…

Slim Dusty, Johnny Cash, Tex Ritter, and Eddy Arnold play from the tinny sounding computer speakers as I sit and type tonight. Presently, Slim Dusty is singing out that old tune, “Just Lovin’ You” and Eddy Arnold’s “I’ll Hold You in My Heart” played only a few moments ago. I enjoy all kinds of music. Tonight my choice reflects my sentimental mood. It is quite late and the moon, a Waning Gibbous, is edging up over the eastern horizon as I sit here in the darkened living room sipping tea– typing and remembering…

Well, I have survived another Thanksgiving holiday. I have made it through five Thanksgivings as a widow. Five. It doesn’t seem possible. I try not to think about it so much anymore. I put it from my mind—so much has happened. I don’t want to cry, but sometimes I can’t help it. My heart still aches with that dull, vague and familiar pain from time to time.

We were in Iowa on Thanksgiving Day. We went to Miss Edna’s house. At 93 years old, she can still turn out a Thanksgiving meal to rival even the best cooks. We remembered the hours we spent there at her home studying the Bible. We remembered when the kids were little. We remembered how they would watch cartoons while we sat at the dining room table discussing a passage of scripture. We remembered you.

It was dark when the kids and I left Miss Edna’s. I drove south out of her driveway and kept going. I went past the old cemetery and toward the town where you and I spent our first eight years together. We brought four of our five children home there. As I drove toward town, our oldest one complained about me going down “memory lane”… and still, I drove on. I don’t know why. It was automatic. I drove down Main Street, past the milk plant and the old Inn. The kids were reverent and quiet as I told them stories from when we lived there.

“This is where we used to walk…” and “Remember going in that store and ordering a real fountain drink?” “This is the park where we had picnics…” They remembered—and the older ones had memories of their own. It was good to remember…but I know the ache and pain they felt as we remembered you.

Soon we were at the corner of Boundary and Spruce— our old home. Victoria remembered the old house as being “bigger”—but of course that was when she was smaller. She was a tiny little thing when we moved from there.

I remember.

I had to laugh as I drove on past the old home place. The last time I was in town, I pulled into our old driveway—not once, but twice! I just drove right up that old hill, pulled slick as a whistle around the circle drive, and went right back out the driveway—just as plain as you please! The house looked empty. Imagine my surprise when the second time I pulled into the drive, the back porch light suddenly flipped on. I suppose it hadn’t occurred to me that anyone would be living in that old house after we moved away. I don’t know what I thought. At any rate, I had to stop and explain what this crazy lady was up to. It was a sad and funny moment both. The man offered to let me come in and see the old place. I didn’t. It wouldn’t be the same. I refrained from a repeat performance this year. It was enough to just drive by—to go down memory lane for a brief visit.

So much has changed. That is the way it should be. I thank God that my heart doesn’t hurt as it did five years ago as I was going through all of those “firsts”. And even though I can never go back to that old home place to find us—to find you— I thank God that I can remember our times together. I am thankful that I can go down memory lane and remember you.