I'm sitting in my own living room reading a book with only my aging cat to keep me company. I wake up before daylight now and I can't remember when I started doing that. And when did I start taking afternoon naps? Then I notice that my house is silent. There is only the ticking of an old clock on my wall to break the abyssal nothingness around me.
My daughter was only eleven years old not very long ago. Now she is almost 19 and preparing for her wedding. I was only 19 not too long ago. When did time start to slip by so quickly?
Before it had seemed an eternity to become old enough to escape my parent's home to live my own life. I left home as quickly as I could and didn't come back until years later. When I had returned, my mother's home was just as I had left it. I didn't notice how silent it was when I stepped through the door. All I remembered was how happy my mother was to see me.
We recently moved my aunt into a nursing home. I took a moment to walk through the closed café downstairs. This had once been where everyone in town came for lunch to socialize and be seen. I grew up there and a large portion of my life's memories were there. Bobby stepped up beside me. He looked around at the tables, chairs and menu placeholders still where they should be. He began to cry. My aunt was his mother. It occurred to me then over three generations of our family had grown up here and now it was to be dark and silent from this day on. It was difficult to fathom the cruelty of passing time.
I had visited my aunt but not as often as I should have. Her home had been silent until the day came she could no longer live on her own. I felt I had missed out on a rare opportunity to learn about their lives and hear their stories. I immediately wanted to return home to my own mother. I left my contact information with Bobby and promised I would visit as often as I could. We weren't really sure how things would be for my aunt once she was in her living facility. Soon after, I did visit my aunt and made the trip to see her at least once a month.
I soon negotiated a price with a neighbor on her rental home beside my mother's house. As I stood outside the old house the irony had not escaped me. I would never have thought I'd only move a few yards from the home I regarded as a prison as a teen. My daughter bounced by me with her box of things. Her auburn hair tied with a pink ribbon swaying as she trotted up the porch steps. In my mind this was only a moment ago. Hadn't she only recently been studying on the floor not far from where I sat now?
I made it a point to learn everything about our family from my elders. I wrote down their amazing stories and who they were affected by the changes that became our American history. This is how I returned to my love of writing and made a budding career of it. It wasn't only me intrigued by the lives of my elders but the country as well. I admit with some guilt now that I have made my family members literary celebrities among our community.
My silence is disturbed as my mother enters my door without knocking. I had lost track of time in my thoughts. The sun had not forgotten. It was now peaking over the high pines and shining into my living room window. My daughter came in behind my mother and gave me a kiss on the head. I apologized for having not made tea or coffee. Bobby, his wife and my aunt entered now. I smiled wide at my aunt, now well into her 80's. "I was just thinking of you, Love."
"You generally think of me when you want something." She chided me. She took a place beside me as three families merged at my home. My daughter's wedding had become a community event. The church on our country road had been reserved for the ceremony. My home had become the new family hub for holidays and reunions. My aunt leaned next to me and whispered, "The children are a tad loud aren't they?"
Previously Posted on FullofKnowlege.com
