Chapter 1: Post 1
The car labored slowly up the driveway to the house. Every few yards a torrent of memories came rushing back to me of a time so long ago, when lawns were green and the great trees’ branches hung heavy with fruit. The laughter of children could be heard all day long and into the night. It was here the Easter bunny hid the baskets in the newly sprouted cornfield. Just to the east of the front porch, was a huge, stately old pear tree — – the largest and most rugged pear tree I ever saw. If pear trees could hear, this one was privy to our most intimate stories and family problems — even as innocent children swung back and forth under its branches.
Grandpop built this house at the turn of the century. It stood proudly atop the hill, overflowing with the secrets of five generations. Magic moments were created here —- some joyous and triumphant — others heartbreaking and painful. Those magic moments were lost in time — never to return or be experienced again. Gone are the opportunities to avoid the pitfalls and the disappointments of fate, as we attempted to fulfill the dreams of our youth.
The house and all the land around it once had echoed with laughter and music as well as the moans and cries of disappointments and death. This is the house where holidays were celebrated and where the family came to relax and recover or just reminisce about yesterdays. Aside from the abundance of food and wine, there was love here — – a special love that seemed to permeate the entire family, creating an endless bond that dwelled deep inside our hearts and souls. It was an old fashioned kind of love, predicated on our responsibilities and loyalty to each other. Family members were expected to abide by the code of conduct that had been passed down from one generation to the next.
I pulled up to the garage. Today, the old house looked lonely and in need of a coat of paint. A few nails would restore the porch banister to both dignity and a degree of safety. I took a deep breath and turned off the ignition. Spending the night in here might not be the ideal preference. Perhaps a neutral hotel room would insulate me from the emotions welling up inside me. I carefully debated the pros and cons of the situation. In the end, the pros prevailed and then I got out of the car.
The air smelled of pine needles and burning leaves — –reminiscent of pumpkins, Halloween and hay rides. A slight breeze whispered through the pine trees —- shuffling the leaves from pile to pile around the yard —- red, yellow and brown. The temptation to trample through them was irresistible, like being a kid again, making crackling noises and enjoying every crunchy step along the way.
more tomorrow
