We see a lot of roadside memorials in this part of the West. We often drive long stretches between destinations, and it is not uncommon to see several death markers en route. I can’t remember when I first asked my mom what they were, but those markers are as much a part of any drive as wheat fields, mountains, deer and blue sky. Often, the crosses are adorned with plastic flowers or wreaths or ribbons.
I’d never actually witnessed an individual decorating their loved one’s cross. I’ve never seen a new cross being put in place to honor the victim of a fatal car crash.
__________
On the way home from the ski hill, grandpa piloted the car with the three grandkids. I imagine he got ears full of stories of jumps, gooey cheese fries, bruises, near crashes and other amazing tales of the day spent on the slopes.
I enjoyed a grown up conversation with my brother as we followed behind in a separate, quiet rig.
It was a rare occasion to visit without answering a million questions about ski jumps, sore feet from too-tight ski boots, dinner plans and the inevitable when will we get there?
Of course we talked about our kids, and whether or not we’re setting good examples. We wondered how we could keep our natural tendencies to be cranky from infecting our happy, high-spirited, life-loving little folk.
We wondered why it is that we let the irritations outweigh the bright spots. How come the high I got from receiving the care package from my guy doesn’t offset the fact that he didn’t email me all day Saturday? Why can’t I jump the pessimist groove in my brain and happily stroll the optimist groove on a regular basis?
We talked of the folly of looking to that significant person in our lives to make us happy.
We laughed at how we thought it would be so much easier than this by the time we got here.
We wondered when we would get there.
Then we admitted to each other that we might already be there.
We wondered if it would be wiser to show our kids that this is it, but that this could be handled with a lighter hand and more grace. We acknowledged that there might be less of a fight, if we realized that this lack of balance really is the balance.
We admitted that the journey is a helluva lot more enjoyable if it’s sprinkled with fun and good things to look forward to, while trying to find that healthy balance.
As we continued heading west, we could see the sun starting to set on the other side of the mountains that frame the far edge of our town. The road was dry, the view was wide and we paused in the conversation.
I was wondering when would I ever get there – not home, but to that point where I better accept the bumpiness of this journey, knowing full well that the bumps only add to the richness of the trip.
The road that leads to the east edge of our town is a bit of a roller coaster. Each time we road up out of a dip, we got a more spectacular view of the setting sun, the purple streaking clouds and the lights of the city.
Up ahead, in the oncoming lane of the two-lane highway, I saw a car parked on the shoulder. The car was leaning on the side of the road where the driver had pulled off, even though it wasn’t a designated pull-out. As we came up out of the next dip, we were that much closer to the car. I wondered aloud why someone would park there, given the amount of traffic coming home from the ski hill. It seemed a precarious place to stop and take a picture of the gorgeous sunset.
The glare of the sun came through the windows of the parked car, making it hard to see the driver.
Just as we passed, I saw her.
She was on her knees in front of a cross – a roadside memorial. She was attaching new flowers to the wreath on the cross.
I imagine she wanted clean flowers on her loved one’s cross for Valentine’s Day.
My brother and I had witnessed a private show of love and devotion. In that instance, we both knew the answers to all those questions we’d been asking.
What a lovely story, Jesse. I remember one day in my 20s thinking, “I’m here…this is the future.”
You’re so right–often the journey is what holds us captivated and energized. I think when we ask “when will we be there?” we’re full of hope of the myriad possibilities.
Sadness for the woman on the roadside.
Happy Valentine’s Day:)
~Linda
Hi Linda,
Thanks for writing. :)
It’s funny how different life is as I compare it to what I’d expected 25 years ago – funny in a good way, most days.
Happy Valentine’s Day to you, too.
Jesse, you gave me goosebumps.
We are there. And yet there is always another there there. Always more chances to get it right, but not to get back moments that have passed. Always the chance to be now.
As long as we live.
Happy Valentine’s Day to you.
Life is full of surprises. How could I have guessed that one of my children would live in Africa? How amazing that one of my children went into education – and administration – like I had done. Considering that we’ve often semi-adopted other kids, what a coincidence that one of my children truly, “legally” adopted a child. There are more surprises to come I’m sure. We’re never really there. Till we’re there.
Susan,
I got goosebumps when I realized what the driver was doing.
It’s nice sharing ‘there’ with you.
Pat,
And we get out of bed each morning wondering what the next surprise will be…
I read your post this morning (and loved it!). I think about “the journey through life” a lot. Then I found this quote this afternoon (in a magazine Susan left behind): “Happiness is not a station you arrive at, but a manner of traveling.” – Margaret Lee Runbeck from Time For Each Other. So very true! Something I need to remember!
Kate,
Funny to see your comment this morning. You have been on my thoughts so much the last week or so.
LOVE the quote. It’s going on my cupboard.
Just last night, I was going to treat myself to a grown-up movie, so I was ‘strongly’ encouraging the kids to get their butts in bed. They, however, had other plans. No surprise there.
Mark had come by to grace us with his baby voice and shower them with Valentines. After he left, we got busy with dinner and such. As bedtime approached, they both felt the need to purge their systems of the toxicity from the Mark visit. As each month passes, these purging sessions get funnier and funnier. (Is funnier a word?) We were up way late, laughing and guffawing. They both did impersonations and shared their versions of what transpired.
They have learned the art of telling a good story, mostly because their dad gives ’em so much material.
I’d like to think that those two are learning how to make the journey a lot more fun. And I do believe their attitudes are rubbing off on me.
I miss you.
How beautifully written. And what an amazing story! I think those sobering moments in life are so timely to remind us that things could be so much worse and how lucky we really are. Thank you for writing that. :)
FOAS,
Nice to see you here and thanks for the swell words.
You know… I’ve had your site open on one of my tabs for a couple days. Keep going back to write a comment, and each time I do I can’t help thinking that you look like you could be my younger, taller, hipper sister.
Are you?
You’ve been on my thoughts too. So glad you could be at the big birthday dinner! Wish we could have been there. Choices we make in life . . . .
I love that the kids have learned how to “purge” with humour! That will sure set them up for life! I’m sure funnier is a word – if not, it should be! :-)
Miss you too!
I think that’s the first time anyone has referred to me as hip. You can be my sister any day! :)
FOAS,
That put a big smile on my face. :D