A Road Less Travelled

Friday was a perfect day. The children and I spent most of it at friend’s house out in the sun. The sky was the shade of blue poets write about and the weather was like all the best days of spring come at once. We were with people who had asked us over so that they could love us and care for us. It was beautiful.

Our friend’s house is set on a large piece of land that holds a bit of forest and a creek. A creek like the one I grew up near, a creek with deeps and shallows. A creek who’s waters still carry the memory of winter, but which stands in the warm spring sunshine. The trees along the creek bank are slowly losing their ground, their tangled roots now extending into air. They reach down into the water searching searching for ground to heap on themselves. All they find is deliciously wet sand and mud.

The stones that line the bottom of the creek are round, smooth, worn by the rush of water. The stones are smooth, but my feet aren’t quite used to them yet. They hurt my feet like a bittersweet memory: the pain is real and impossible to ignore, but worth all the joy. I stagger through the water trying not to limp and hobble, but getting lost in nostalgia.

I’m half there in the creek on Friday and half ten years old again playing in a creek 650 miles away. We would start a few blocks from our house and follow the creek down to the lake. We’d see how far we could get without getting wet, just walking on the rocks sticking out from the creek bank. We were explorers, adventurers, brave hearty souls with a mission. The sun was hot then, too, and the water was cold. We wore shoes in the water trading full experience for painlessness. So many days spent in that water.

And then I’m back in the creek in Tremont watching Noah throw rocks and making sure Justice doesn’t fall into one of the fews spots over his head. Arianna’s riding a tube through the current, Isaac is trying out a homemade raft and Samuel is out of sight around the bend. I’ve never seen around that bend. There could be anything around that bend. If we follow it long enough maybe there’s even a lake somewhere down the creek that could satisfy even this Erie girl when she gets homesick.

We climb out and change clothes because Espi, the lady of the house, was wise enough to tell us to bring extra clothes. We play in the sun andwe sit and talk. They grill for us and I spill my entire plate on the floor by accident. Their dog decides he likes me. We were going to leave after root beer floats, but by the time Samuel, who was helping plant lilac bushes, finishes his we are deep in a movie and I can’t bear to pull us away. Justice falls asleep against me during the movie and Noah falls asleep in the van. We get home late and everyone goes to bed. A perfect end to a perfect day.

Thank you, Candlers.