You always know it is autumn at my
house when the ground is littered with walnuts. Even with a
handy-dandy walnut picker-upper, they seem to carpet the yard and
overflow onto the walkway. Colorful trees and flying leaves leave no
doubt as to the season. I left up Halloween decorations while I
readied my house for company.
My sister-in-law Sissy and
brother-in-law Jim had sold out and were headed to Oregon to live
near their children. My nieces, Brenda and Sherry, have spent the
past weeks helping and they were all flying back together. The plan
was for them to spend the night and I would take them to the airport
hotel Sunday.
Saturday, they arrived from two
different places. Not sure how many were going to be here, I cooked a
scary big pot of chili and had deli meats for sandwiches. As people
began to arrive, I made pot after pot of coffee. Soon my house was
wall-to-wall people. Just like the old days.
The house filled with laughter as we
visited. “You know who would have really loved this?” I asked as
family gathered in the kitchen. “Jim. He loved spending time with
family. Sometimes he would come home and say, ‘Oh, by the way,
we’re having a jam session—and I invited everyone to dinner.’
Of course, he’d have no idea just how many were coming.”
My niece, Sherry, had her video camera
going, just like Jim used to. It reminded me of the two of them
talking about their multitude of family tapes. “We’ll have the
history, Uncle Jimmy. Everyone else will forget, but we can watch our
videos and remember.” She was correct. So many slices of life would
be forgotten without video.
Sherry and I walked out into the yard
to reminisce. “We want to reminisce too,” chimed in my
granddaughter and great-niece.
“You’re not old enough to
reminisce,” I said.
“I’m half of sixteen,” my
great-niece said.
The two girls seemed to be joined at
the hip. They entertained with dance routines and songs, advertised
with posters announcing various show times. They stood on the porch
steps, facing the flag, hand over hearts and sang the National
Anthem. My six-year-old grandson stood at attention and saluted
the flag. The scene was amazing and touching, especially considering
the flag they used was my autumn “Welcome” flag, with pumpkins on
it. In their eyes, it was as valid as the stars and stripes as they
sang the song without missing a word.
Sissy and I sat at the table watching
the commotion going on outside with four-wheelers, interactions
between cousins, older and younger.
“You can sit right here and be
entertained,” she said.
“It’s like watching a reality show,
isn’t it?” I agreed.
Saturday evening, Sherry and Brenda
went to a Halloween party with my son, Rob, and daughter-in-law,
Stacey. They came in laughing and joking at midnight. One of the
highlights was Brenda winning the costume contest, without a costume.
Of course, it helped that Rob was the judge. He said she was dressed
exactly like his cousin Brenda from Oregon.
Sunday morning the time change helped
us all get up earlier than we thought possible. After coffee, we
fixed a big breakfast—biscuits, gravy, sausage, eggs—and then Rob
and Stacey tackled how to fit all the Oregon bound family’s luggage
into the trunk of my car. Amazingly enough, it all fit except a small
overnight case.
Early afternoon, we loaded into the car
for the drive to the Airport Hilton. We stopped by North Kansas City
Hospital so Sissy could visit her sister who had been admitted a few
days earlier. Then I took them to the hotel.
Sherry checked them in and Sissy sat in
one of the big comfy couches in the lobby. Jim and Brenda were
loading luggage onto a cart. When they opened the trunk, I was
impressed by the neat arrangement of luggage. There was not an inch
of wasted space!
I hugged everyone, determined to keep
it light and happy. “I’ll be seeing you,” I said.
I jumped in my car and drove across the
parking lot and stopped to have Onstar plug in the directions home.
As I sat there, I thought of Scotts Mills, Silver Falls, Crooked
Finger, the scent of pine on a breezy mountain. Thought of Jim and
how he loved Oregon and visiting his childhood places. But I didn’t
cry. I just smiled and whispered a prayer for happy trails until we
meet again.
Copyright (c) by L.S. Fisher November
2013
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