Memories

The old man pulled the car over to the side of the gravel road and shut the engine off. Peering out the driver side window he looked down the path that was barely visible through the covered snow.  As he opened the car door he grabbed his cane thinking that he may need it to steady himself on the walk. Closing the car door he just stood there looking at the surrounding area. He recognized some things that time and the seasons could not erase, but those were few.  Leaving the car behind he headed up the path toward what he had traveled so many miles and years to come see.  He was relieved that the path was somewhat smooth and that he brought his cane.  His legs were not what they used to be and he had learned to remember his frailties.  Glancing around he saw the sign on the tree indicating he was at the right place at the right time. So sad he thought but such is life.  Having lost his wife of 60 years recently and just a year out of watching his only brother breathe his last breath he knew that time could not be stopped.

The air was cold but the sky was clear and this somewhat invigorated his steps.  The path curved a little at this point and he was very pleased to see the ash tree was still standing. The tire swing was no longer there but the scar it left behind on the limb was. How many times did his brother and he swing on that tire he wondered?  Looking up the path he got a glimpse of the old homestead.  He was not ready for how far it had decayed. He fought back the tears but still they came.  It was like looking at his brother as he died. He was the shell of the person he grew up with and no matter how much he wanted to restore him to the brother who pushed that tire swing he could not.  He just sat with him in that hospital and talked to his brother as his life ebbed away.  He talked about the old home and growing up together hoping the smiles he drew from his brother would somehow ease the pain he was going through.  He looked at the house and the same feelings he had with his brother reawakened.  Feelings of wanting to restore something but not having the ability to do it.  Walking further he approached the front of the house. If there was one thing he was grateful for it was that the house had not been vandalized.  No graffiti or random human destruction here, just time and the weather.  The front porch was mostly there but he was not going to enter the house as he still respected his frailties and also feared the boards were not in the best of shape anymore.  The screen door was gone and replaced with a more modern aluminum door that still could not hold up to time  Closing his eyes he could still hear his mom opening the screen door on a summer day and shouting out to him and his brother that it was time to get washed up for dinner.  The screen door would slam shut behind her as she went back in to make sure dinner was just right.  Opening his eyes he looked down and spotted the porch support post that they used to tie up their several dogs. Sure enough the marks were still present where the chain had dug in holding back some very active puppies.  All their dogs were tied up as puppies until they were old enough to understand the limits of the property.  He smiled as he remembered the many dogs they had around the house.  Looking back at the woods to the left of the house he tried to remember where all the dogs were buried.  Most died of old age but a few died of sicknesses that were common to dogs that roamed free and sometimes ate things they should not have or fought with things that they should have left alone. His dad loved dogs and always believed that when their time had come they should be buried by those that loved them. This was something he always tried to do with all the dogs he has had in his life.  It somehow brought closure and contributed to remembering their dogs. 

Moving left around the front porch he searched for evidence of the garden patch his mom and dad had sweated over for so many years. He could not find any evidence other than the land being cleared and guessed that the next owners saw no value in raising food from the ground.  They probably turned the whole thing into a yard to be mowed. He recalled the many seasons of his dad plowing and tilling the ground. His mom fretting over what to plant each year. He remembered how he and his brother would plead with her to plant more corn and less peas, but she would always say that a variety of vegetables will make you grow strong and wise.  A plead to dad would always get the same response that mom was in charge of what to plant.  Looking back he reckoned that she was a very wise person. How else can you explain that he reached 81 years old unless it was a good foundation of fresh and canned vegetables from the garden.  Still the garden always seemed so routine to him at the time. Dad tilled, mom planted, he and his brother weeded, harvest and then many days of canning.  Then the next year it would start over again. Back then he felt it was so boring but today he knew the value of money and the food that the small plot of land produced was more valuable than gold, except the peas of course.

Moving around to the back of the house he looked back into the woods and spotted the area where the outhouse was. He knew it would be gone because those who purchased the house after his parents passed away could not fathom using an outhouse when they could have a bathroom put in the house.  He agreed with their thinking but also wondered how many funny stories they missed by not having an outhouse. He could not begin to count the number of times his brother played a joke on him while he was in there trying to do his business and the many times he got even.  Still he had to acknowledge that his old bones would not like a trip out here in the middle of winter and really admired his mom and dad for continuing to use the outhouse into their old age.  His mom, he thought, could bring grace and dignity to having to use an outside bathroom, and there were very few who could do that.  He remembered the nice touches she added to make the place a little more pleasing, but even she could not overcome the smell the place had in the summer.  Still she made even using an outside facility more bearable.  The back porch was in pretty good shape, but he still did not want to risk entering the house.  Just like the front porch support post, the back one also had the marks where the dogs were chained.  While the front yard was used for the dogs to watch all the comings and goings on the property, the back yard was for feeding and sleeping.  There was an area to the right of the back porch where the dogs could crawl under the porch and sleep out of the weather. He and his brother also used to hide under that porch when playing cowboys and Indians. It was an adventure under there and using their imagination they could create so many different worlds.  Their mom did not like them playing under the porch mostly because she was the one who had to clean their clothes and patch the occasional tear created by exposed nails or splintered wood.  The back yard also brought up the memories of all the wood that was split for heating and sometimes cooking.  Living next to a wooded area provided an endless supply of wood to burn to keep the family warm during the cold winter.  His dad would cut the trees down and they would all pitch in to get the wood ready to split and stack. He thought that even though it was hard work he liked splitting and stacking wood better than weeding the garden. He figured it was all the wood cutting and splitting that gave him the broad shoulders his late wife always talked about. He looked down at his hands and thought about how calloused they were for most of his life. He always felt that was a badge of honor and the shame of getting older was that he has lost his callouses and sometimes deep down he felt his usefulness to the world also.  Age will do that to you he knew and it takes more and more work to show others you can still do something.  He continues to fight long and hard to not rely on anyone else in his life but age is slowly but steadily beating him in that battle.  He was somewhat grateful that his wife passed away before him because he always felt that part of being married was he had to ensure she was always cared for.  It was his job as a husband and he never wanted to let her down.  As he thinks of their 60 years together he smiles knowing he never let her down on that obligation.  Even at the end of her life when Alzheimer’s took away her memory of him, he never left her side. Instead he sat, praying for the days when she would come back to him and just say his name.  When those days came he held her hand and talked to her and told her he was there.  She smiled and said she loved him, and that made those hard days much more bearable. Toward the end those days of recognizing his face and not so broad shoulders were fewer and fewer, but that did not matter to him as he remembered the vows of in sickness and in health.  He took care of her until the day she breathed her last breath.  It was the hardest day of his life, and he still had not gotten over it.   His mom and dad were gone. His brother was gone, and now, the love of his life. The feeling of being alone weighed on him every day and sometimes that weight made it so hard to get up in the morning. 

Looking up over the back porch he spots the window to the room that he and his brother shared. The glass may be gone from the window but that did not stop him from seeing two young boys with their noses pressed to the window looking out at the world.  He thought of the many times they just lay in the bed looking out the window and talked of what they were going to do when they got older.  He thought of the many snow storms they witnessed through that window and how they just wished their school would be cancelled.  How many thunder storms did they spy on from under the covers because they always felt the lightening would get them one day? He remembers the day when their fear just about came true. The lightning struck the tree in the back yard and split it in two.  They were not at the window at the time and grateful for that, but it brought the whole family out the back door.  He remembered his dad looking over the situation, and like all good fathers, he calmed everyone down by declaring that all was okay. The next day his dad looked at the tree and started working on it. After he was done we had more wood to split and more fuel for the winter.  When they could, he and his brother left the window open to allow a cool breeze to come through on those long summer evenings.  The open window also allowed many sounds to enter.  He could not believe that he could ever sleep without the sounds of crickets, frogs, birds and the like. Looking at the window to the room, he missed his brother more than ever before because when two people share a room for thirteen years they grow so very close.  They joked and fought more than they seriously talked, but when they talked seriously they opened their hearts up to someone they knew they could trust.  He never let others know the dreams and secrets his brother detailed to him and he knew his brother did the same.  They may have fought many times but they never ever stopped being brothers who cared for each other and looked out for each other. Their mom would always remind each of them that no matter what you do in this life or where you go in this world you will always have a brother on who you could rely.  He thought if only mom could tell him what to do now that his brother was gone. 

Just in from the back porch was the kitchen. His mom took such pride in that kitchen and what it produced. Just off the kitchen and down some steep stairs was the cellar and the treasure trove of his mom’s canned items from the garden.  He could almost swear he could smell the aroma of items his mom baked out of that kitchen.  She was such a good cook, and this benefitted not only the family but the neighbors as well.  He admitted to himself that the family did not have a lot of money, but one thing mom could do was cook and bake.  If it was a church social, a funeral, or a barn raising, mom would prepare items that would stay in people’s memory for quite some time.  She loved sharing her recipes with those who would ask, and she really loved to teach any young girl to cook.  He thought that having two boys did not give his mom a chance to pass down her kitchen knowledge, but he knew those she taught passed on the love to others.  He was sure all the items in the kitchen were replaced by more modern appliances when the house was bought from his parents.  He was also sure that modern appliances could not ever produce what his mom did with what she had.  She never complained to dad about needing anything more modern in the kitchen as she knew that most of the money dad made at the mine was going to other things more vital that having a new gadget.  She accepted that fact and never expected anything new so that is why she was so surprised when dad replaced the icebox one day with a General Electric refrigerator.  Dad did that one day while he got mom to go to a neighbor’s house on the pretense that they needed help with a quilt layout.  I think mom knew something was up but she kept it to herself. She never expected that dad would get a friend to put an electrical wire into the kitchen and have a refrigerator plugged in and working when she got home. Dad saved the money over time and wanted to surprise her but could never save the money close enough to his mom’s birthday or Christmas to make it more special. 

A cold breeze reminded him that he needed to get back to the car soon.  He continued left around the side of the house.  This side contained the windows to the living room.  The windows were not broken as most of the others so he eased up to them to have a look.  The room was bare except for some trash and boxes left on the floor by the previous owners. He could see the fireplace and mantle. Other than being painted over, it looked just like it was when he and his brother huddled around it as kids.  Craning his neck he could just see the stairs to the bedrooms upstairs. This room was where the family gathered to listen to the radio and hear the news about faraway places.  He remembered this room being more comfortable in the winter when all were gathered around the crackling fire.  His mom would be sitting in her chair darning socks, patching a pair of pants, or working on a quilt.  Dad would be in his chair reading a book or listening to a radio show.  He remembered the many Christmases spent in this house and how they decorated the living room.  Not with fancy lights like today but with things that they had to create. He remembered that his dad would bring home a fresh cut tree a week before Christmas.  He could not cut one down sooner because they would dry out and be a fire risk.  He remembered the neighbor who had a fire right before Christmas due to their tree being too dry.   He and his brother would put their homemade popcorn string on it and some colored paper loops as well.  His mom would create a few nifty pine cone ornaments to hang on the tree as well, and his dad would put the angel doll on top of the tree.  The tree we pretty simple he thought, but sometimes he longed for those simple Christmases of the past where huddled around the fire time seemed to slow down. As he stepped back from the window he imagined he could hear the radio playing Christmas songs and his mom and dad singing along with the radio. 

Making his way back to the front porch again he began his walk back to the car.  Stopping he turned to take one last look again at the old house. Above the porch was the window to his parent’s room.  He remembered the many times he ran into that room and jumped into their bed when he was scared. He knew that no matter what was bothering him everything would be alright in his mom and dad’s bed.  Mom would hold him close and take all his problems away.  He wished that he could go back into that room now and have his mom take away the feelings of loneliness that weighed so heavily upon him.  He said, under his breath, “Goodbye mom and dad.  I love you both and miss you so much.” He breathed a heavy sigh and turned back toward the car grateful again that he brought his cane with him.  After several steps he reached the ash tree where the swing once squeaked as it rubbed the tree raw. He said in a somewhat louder voice, “Goodbye Tom, thanks for being the best brother a guy could ever have. I love you, too.”  Walking on he reached the sign posted on the tree, and read it aloud, “Keep Out. Unsafe. Property of Stillman Mining. Property to be demolished 02/12/2011”.  He knew they were going to clear the whole site and that is why he came today.  He knew that shortly after February 12^th his past would be gone and no one would ever remember how his family struggled to exist for so many years.  A struggle that was faced head on by two parents that loved each other and their sons so much, and sons who loved their parents just as much. Looking back now through the years he wished for the struggle again as he always knew what his dad said would come true. His dad always said that no matter what they faced they could make it through if they held onto each other and trusted God.  Yes dad, he thought, you were right.  Turning he approached the car. Opening the door he threw in the cane and then settled in behind the wheel.  Starting the car he was grateful for the heat that would soon warm his bones. Glancing out the driver side window he breathed a “Goodbye” and headed down the snow covered dirt road back to the airport and then back to an empty house.

As the car moved out of site down the dirt road the wind suddenly stirred up the new snow on the path to the old house and a sound like rope rubbing on a tree limb could be heard.