Dinner was on the table at the farm and my children were nowhere to be found.
My brother obligingly set off to find them.
I also went out to check on their progress of pulling themselves away from the freedom and wonder of the farm….to obey.
All three of them were running down the country lane.
I rushed back into the house to grab my camera and quickly capture them, the setting sun, the light on the golden cornstalks.
It is just a plain ‘ol country road…but with the right light it appeared magical.
We are now home from our two week trip to see my mom and then some.
We are tired, there is a lot of laundry to do and even more work that needs to be tackled.
This morning I woke up early (body still on the eastern time zone).
The house was quiet, dark, coffee in hand and talking to my husband.
I have really missed this routine that we do each morning when he works from home.
On my trip home I caught myself down roads I haven’t traveled in a long time.
Some literal and some figuratively.
I was trying to be more intentional this trip home….not knowing really when the next time I will be in the area.
I saw friends from junior high and high school, drove past old schools, photographed the houses I grew up in…
One of the old roads I drove down was a long lane to the house of an old boyfriend’s parent.
The father of this boyfriend had lost his wife last year.
I wanted to tell him personally how sorry I was and just hug him.
As I was driving down that long lane a flood of memories that I honestly hadn’t thought about for over 18 years came rushing back.
Funny how those memories are always there…just waiting…wondering if you will choose to remember.
I had loved that boy so many years ago.
I don’t even remember now how long we had dated.
I think it was almost two years.
We drove each other nuts, fought all of the time…and I was crazy for him.
Even though I now know true, real love…those early loves were the most I had known and so they were real too.
I knocked on the old farmhouse door.
A voice from inside called out, “Come on in”.
Only in a small town would a person say that.
I cracked open the door and said, “Mr. ….., I don’t know if you remember me but I am….
He interrupted…..”Blue eyes”!
I hadn’t seen him for 18 years.
“Remember that is what we used to call you”?
With a smile on my face, “Yes, I remember”.
I sat in his kitchen for the next 45 minutes talking about his wife that is now gone, his family and all his grandchildren.
We talked briefly about the boy I had loved such a long time ago.
You don’t always get the chance to know that someone that you cared about is good. Happy. Loved.
That alone made me smile.
As I headed back down that long lane I knew I would never be back.
I was thankful for that road.
That chance to tell the father how sorry I was and hug him.
I appreciate all of those old roads from my past more and more these days.
With the old roads in my rear view mirror I am driving on….but I will never forget them.