What was originally meant to be an overnight trip had turned into ten days. As mentioned earlier, my angels were being worked overtime, and somehow I had made it 2,000 miles to my family's home. When my uncle looked underneath the hood of my van, he found that a belt had snapped and pieces were all over the engine. He immediately made arrangements with someone to fix it. Not only did the mechanic fix the belt, but he also repaired the hood that was literally taped and wired on. Once he had finished washing the grime off of it, the van looked practically new. As a welcoming present from my family, 2 aunt's and an uncle, the repairs were paid for. I was truly grateful. And now, it was finally time to complete the last leg of my journey. Unfortunately, it was also finally time to say goodbye to Mr. Sweet 16.
Over the course of that ten days, we had met a couple more times. It had turned out that he was a Scout leader and that his pack had planted greenery and had restored beauty to various parks around the area. When we went to those parks he pointed out what "his" boys had done, as he beamed with pride like a proud papa would have. Then, for what we considered as our final goodbye, we met at a park fittingly called Trail of Tears. He had told me the history of the park, how it was one of the stops of the Native Americans when they had been led by foot from their lands and how many had died along the way. And then for the rest of the time, we sat there in total silence and watched the wind blow through the trees. It was as if nature was performing a beautiful ballet, trees dancing to the tune of the wind. The leaves swirled and framed a funnel cloud making it more visual as it twirled down to the ground. No words passed between us. We respected the moment as though we knew we may not see each other again. I tried desperately to burn every moment into long term memory for recalling at a later date. And then he turned and looked into my eyes, but all he saw was sadness. The trail of tears that day had become mine.
They were mine as I had recalled how I had arrived at this point. Back in the 80's, in an effort to cut the distance between us, this man had joined the military to try and be stationed in California, which is where I was located for college. He succeeded and before he was deployed overseas he had come to visit me one last time in 1981 to try and mend things between us. However, my heart was hardened. The hurt was still too fresh from the summer he had never showed and had stopped writing. In 1981, I was determined not to get hurt again, what a joke. He left that year to go overseas, where he would eventually meet his wife to be. Whatever heartache I had caused him in the past, was now mine to bear. I wouldn't have wished it upon my worst enemy. "And this too shall pass", that's what I told myself to get by.
The time had come for me to continue my journey to Tennessee, but I had one more stop to make. I only had to drive one hour to Nashville to see my father's brother and his wife. And as an added bonus my other uncle from California was visiting them. What a treat! I got a little bit of California after almost completing my 2,000+ mile trip. I had not seen my Nashville relatives since my father's funeral back in 2002. I had looked forward to seeing them again. My pit stop was the city of the Grand Ole Opry and home to my parent's college, Tennessee State. When I drove into the driveway, happiness and excitement had become welcomed long forgotten friends!
To Be Continued...
Over the course of that ten days, we had met a couple more times. It had turned out that he was a Scout leader and that his pack had planted greenery and had restored beauty to various parks around the area. When we went to those parks he pointed out what "his" boys had done, as he beamed with pride like a proud papa would have. Then, for what we considered as our final goodbye, we met at a park fittingly called Trail of Tears. He had told me the history of the park, how it was one of the stops of the Native Americans when they had been led by foot from their lands and how many had died along the way. And then for the rest of the time, we sat there in total silence and watched the wind blow through the trees. It was as if nature was performing a beautiful ballet, trees dancing to the tune of the wind. The leaves swirled and framed a funnel cloud making it more visual as it twirled down to the ground. No words passed between us. We respected the moment as though we knew we may not see each other again. I tried desperately to burn every moment into long term memory for recalling at a later date. And then he turned and looked into my eyes, but all he saw was sadness. The trail of tears that day had become mine.
They were mine as I had recalled how I had arrived at this point. Back in the 80's, in an effort to cut the distance between us, this man had joined the military to try and be stationed in California, which is where I was located for college. He succeeded and before he was deployed overseas he had come to visit me one last time in 1981 to try and mend things between us. However, my heart was hardened. The hurt was still too fresh from the summer he had never showed and had stopped writing. In 1981, I was determined not to get hurt again, what a joke. He left that year to go overseas, where he would eventually meet his wife to be. Whatever heartache I had caused him in the past, was now mine to bear. I wouldn't have wished it upon my worst enemy. "And this too shall pass", that's what I told myself to get by.
The time had come for me to continue my journey to Tennessee, but I had one more stop to make. I only had to drive one hour to Nashville to see my father's brother and his wife. And as an added bonus my other uncle from California was visiting them. What a treat! I got a little bit of California after almost completing my 2,000+ mile trip. I had not seen my Nashville relatives since my father's funeral back in 2002. I had looked forward to seeing them again. My pit stop was the city of the Grand Ole Opry and home to my parent's college, Tennessee State. When I drove into the driveway, happiness and excitement had become welcomed long forgotten friends!
To Be Continued...
 |
| The grave sites and statues of Chiefs White Path and Fly Smith. The Trail of Tears from http://www.hoptownrec.com/  by JaMax |
No comments:
Post a Comment