She was very distraught. Her shoes. They weren't white anymore. Walking in the rain from the bus stop to the school had taken it's toll. "Will they ever come clean again?" was the question she so emotionally asked. "Let me see" was my reply. She was half way around my desk before the word "Let" was even out of my mouth. "See" she blurted out as her arms became parallel with her body, locked at the elbows and her fingers pointed downward to her shoes. I chuckled. They looked pretty white to me. What I didn't realize is that she wanted them to be pristine white, forever. "Not possible" I told her. Her reply was "I think I'm just going to cry". I told her that was a good idea. "Have a good cry and then wipe away your tears and get to class". Probably not really what she wanted to hear but she collected her emotions in her hand truck and wheeled them out the door.
There are days when I know exactly how she feels. Like you just want life to be pristine and lovely without a hint of stain. Then I wake up and the sun is streaming in my window. A wise friend once said "the sun always comes up in the morning". He knew my heartache because he had his own. He was just further along in the process with a knowing that life goes on. He's gone now. Probably spry enough in heavenly places to beat my boy in one on one. I sure hope so.
This month marked the second anniversary of the passing of our dearly beloved boy and the moments just keep rollin'. In fine family fashion, the five of us hung out for five days. Road trip. It was decided that Reno was the destination and the objective was fun while knowing that we would all give up so much for just one more conversation with the one we miss.
Turns out that Highway 395 is like a lot of Oregon roadways and can be laid against the roadways of life. You think you are going the right speed and can maneuver the turn. Only to find out that it is necessary to slow down and keep your eyes on the center mark. Up and over a pass we climbed. The other side opened up to a vast valley. We followed the road around Summer Lake for many miles. The countryside, dotted with black cattle and ranch homes. The darkness slowly sucked out every bit of daylight and turned the visibility to the 40 feet of headlights breaking through the cooling night air. The journey was well under way. The family, feeling satisfied with a feeling of closeness.
The were many notable moments with the finest coming from Aunt Rosie. Reno would not be half the destination without the Oyster Bar. As a family we ate there when all the kids were young and we stayed in Reno during spring break one year. Actually I think we went to Reno specifically so we could eat at the Atlantis Oyster Bar. So we hopped into two taxis and headed down the street. Dinner was plentiful with lots of share and so many different flavors. In the taxi ride back to our hotel, we were again in two taxis. We ended up at a stop light, side by side. Aunt Rosie rolled down her window. The kids rolled down their window next to us. "Excuse me. But do you have any grey poupon?" she asked. Of course, neither taxi driver knew we were together and everyone got a large belly laugh out of it.
We stayed in one hotel room,
slumber party style.
While we were gone, a new baby boy was born to a family so dearly loved.
Life. Life so cherished.
Welcome in the wake of goodbye.
Forever loved, never forgotten.
