Memory Lane

 

I don’t know what made me think that going to town two days before Christmas was a good idea. The traffic was horrific and Walmart was a hubbub of activity.

My trip to town was a four-fold mission. First, I had to take care of farm business, so with checkbook in hand, I stopped at two cooperatives—electric and Ag.

At Walmart, I needed to pick up a prescription and had a scheduled grocery pick up. That was not as easy as it sounds. Finding a parking place was a combination of luck and perseverance. Backing out of the parking place was more difficult. My seat constantly vibrated because of traffic and beeped pedestrian warnings. The only way I was able to back out was when someone decided they wanted my parking spot.

I began the slow process of moving across the parking lot to the grocery pickup area. Of course, most places were taken up by people who were in the store shopping. After I found a parking place and picked up my groceries, I drove across town to the post office. I turned onto Lamine Street and looked at the buildings. I saw the building that used to be the library and passed a place that was once a church and still had a steeple.  When I turned on Fifth Street, I saw what used to be the employment office and a large building that was the Southwestern Bell Telephone offices. Something tugged at my heart and niggled at my brain when I thought of all the changes throughout Sedalia.

After stopping at the post office, I drove down Third Street toward Engineer. I saw where Mr. Reed’s grocery store used to be and turned off Engineer to the neighborhood where we used to live in the mid-70s. The house we lived in was gone, of course, and in its place were three new homes. Jim’s Grandma Fisher’s house was still standing and someone lived there. I drove a few blocks and turned north. Where Jim’s Grandma Tubbs house and Uncle Floyd and Aunt Ida’s house used to be were completely hidden by a privacy fence.

By this time, tears blurred my vision. I passed Uncle Johnny and Aunt Nita’s house and back onto Engineer. I couldn’t help but feel lonesome for the people who were once a big part of my life, and a time and place that I could never visit again.

Jim and I were in our 20’s when we moved to the Sedalia area. Our kids were little, and we were surrounded by family and friends. We never knew what the future held and we were unafraid. We lived in a rented house filled with old broken-down furniture. We had few worldly possessions, but we had love, hope, and faith that life would be easier eventually.

One of life’s blessings is that we don’t know what we don’t know. Would I have changed anything had I known how it would end? To stop the bad times, I would have missed the good times. I would have missed the love and laughter. I would have missed my second family that I loved as dearly as my birth family. I would not have known my second mother and father, my second brothers and sisters, and the multitude of cousins, nieces and nephews. Jim’s family was my family, and my family was his.   

As I continued down Memory Lane, or Engineer, I passed by Crown Hill Cemetery. Most of Jim’s family is buried there. For the first time ever, I wished Jim was buried there so I could easily visit his grave. Instead, I turned into the last loop of the cemetery, to visit Harold’s grave. By the time I got out of my car, I was sobbing.  I straightened the flowers in the vase, ran my hand along the smooth service of the stone and thought about finding love again in my sixties.

When I returned to the car, I caught sight of myself in the rearview mirror. I don’t know why I thought it had been a good day to apply mascara for the first time in years. Liquid love had left angry black streaks down my face.

I wiped away the evidence of my sentimental journey, and drove the memory lane I had used for the past fifty years to go home. If I had followed the highway farther north, I would have passed by the house where we lived on Newland Hill and continue to the house that Jim and I built on Sinkhole Road. Instead, I turned into the driveway to my current home. As I rode the lift and opened the door, I smiled at the wagging tail and hopeful barking of my dog. I was home where new memories will be made every day.

 

Copyright © December 2025 by L. S. Fisher

#ENDALZ