Historically Speaking

   

    I have always liked to study history. I enjoy reading documentaries about famous people that have gone before. I even like to hear the eulogies at funerals because it gives me a keener picture of the life one has lived in the world I have inherited from them.

     It was the first warm spring day we had experienced in the new season. We walked on the boardwalk passing a little yard where a sheep and two ewe lambs were sitting in the long green grass beside the 19^th Century home. Across the way, the drug store stood to beckon from a different time and a different age. People in period clothing crossed the dirt road as a wagon passed by with a little boy in suspenders buttoned to brown pants over a white button-up shirt and clad in a blue hat. He waved from his perch in the back of the wagon between two bags of grain.  As we neared the corner we saw the local doctor’s home, the bank, and the mercantile. Like the old plunky sound of an antique upright piano, the air was filled with the sound of the ancient.

     My children looked around the historical farm community in wonder. Once Upon a time, there lived a group of people gathered in a community to live in harmony and support of one another. As we crossed the street to step into the drug store the clerk greeted us at the door. Walking in on to the wooden floor our feet scuffed across the dimly lit room. Bolts of fabric lined one wall, pharmaceuticals lined the opposite wall and barrels of necessities were gathered in the middle.

    I tried to think of the last time I had baked fresh bread. What did a loaf taste like at this time in history before gluten allergies were a worry? I walked by a washboard used to clean clothing by hand. The clerk explained how most families only had two changes of clothes. “Everyday” clothes and “Sunday” best. I thought of the many times my hands grew raw after scrubbing baby messes out of little outfits, and wondered at the job the women of my ancestry must have had to perform daily.

     Life it seems is like the fluff of a seeding dandelion in spring. It is light and hard to hold on to. Once one feels they have a hold of it the wind blows scattering all our plans to the wind. Did the ancients feel the uncertainty I feel as I hold little hands and wonder if my parenting will bring about responsibly grown children?

    As I looked through the many old things that once were new I wondered at the frailty of life. Like sands through the hourglass, time is constantly slipping away, but I rarely notice. It is only in old photos I realize how much my children have grown, how my own face has changed.

    On the other side of this lingering anxiety, I felt hope with this thought: This is all I have, this moment. So I wish to live it fully alive. I wish to live it with a heart fully engaged. When my time has come and gone, I hope that something will be left behind more valuable than a pair of lightly used shoes or a fancy purse. I hope that the love I have planted endures.

    The question is…have I planted love? Or have I been too busy chasing my own way to stop and look at the community around me? This community of family, friends, neighbors, and people I have yet to meet that surround me. I hope to live fully awake, fully aware, and fully awestruck at the blessing of life.

    Placing a nickel in each of my children’s hands I give them permission to purchase a lemon drop. With excited smiles they each hand the clerk their money in exchange for the sweet confection. After the purchase, we leave the quiet space of the little store to again embrace the warm breeze of the spring day. It is time to go live, love, and enjoy the simplicity of this day.