The Road To The Right

 With the sunset arriving a little earlier and the light feeling a bit more golden, I have found myself reflecting more as of late. I took a small break from writing to celebrate family and admittedly have felt reluctant to sit down and write again. Perhaps it is the encroaching start date for work, or maybe it's that I cannot seem to get that blessed five dollar foot long jingle out of my head; but I found myself in the mid morning just standing in the backyard doing nothing in particular but waiting for inspiration.

I heard the half hearted honk followed by a second and gazed over the treetops to locate the geese that sometimes travel by on their way to Lily Pond. Only this time instead of coming over the tall spruce line, they lazily came in lower and to the right of them. Have you ever heard the feathers of geese pushing against the still air so low to the earth that in your mind you are almost touching their wings? This small flock's crisp v formation didn't seem to quite match up with their murmurings and I thought if I closed my eyes I would instead be listening to children being made to get out of bed for their first day of classes. Not quite weary from summer, yet ready to strengthen and test their wings over distance. It won't be long before they are indistinguishable from the hundreds that will fly down the valley in the coming days. Then I will, as I have always done, wave at the sky and yell, "Goodbye! See you next year!" 

Only this is all just a lie as they won't be the same small flock that left the setback flying to Lily Pond each day only to leave one afternoon for longer days. No, they will be changed from their time away and those that I greet with a "Hello" and "Welcome back" will have other, more pressing things to do than to reflect upon last season. Gone are the uncertain groanings of fledglings.

Wayne and I were on our way to Bradley to pick up Abby our youngest of four. She had been working at her first job in D.C. after graduating from Alfred U; but had since moved to Buffalo three weeks ago. While Wayne and I walked about Vernon tending to this and dreaming about that, Abby was taking the early train into the city and then the last train out at ten. I wasn't quite ready for the adult that would be standing at the airport curb, so I asked Wayne to take Scott Road. "We'll be late" he warned but I assured him that we would not. 

I always look for the state line marker when the paved road changes into dirt and noticed that people had begun to stack stones on top of it. Placing stones on monuments is a Jewish custom that is done to hold the dead's soul down on earth. Perhaps those who put the stones on the state line wish to hold their souls in Vermont and who can blame them? 

"Stop! Turn Right!" For the life of me I wonder why it is that Wayne sometimes can't follow the simplest of requests. "We're going to be late! I don't know where that road ends up." Wayne protests as he turns the car around. "No, we aren't going to be late" I confirm and then think just one more adventure this summer. The woods there are big dusky and peaceful with old trees. The ground is covered with thick layers of pungent pine needles that hide the reason for the ground lifting up to form hills without level spots in between.   The road gives hints of the secrets hidden there as Wayne slowly creeps the car over round stones. There is a large pond filled with pads, but mostly there are tall furrowed trunks with tops that are out of view and a brown forest floor. It is still and it is comfortable. 

I ask Wayne for the name of the road and he checks his phone. We are on Old Vernon rd and we can't imagine how it is that we had never taken the road to the right. Just as I begin to worry about being late, a tree emerges from the landscape bearing witness to a ritual that I can only guess at; but it is both joy and time standing sentry over a large rock fire pit that is so pristine and devoid of human carousing that it sits in stark contrast to the tree covered in rows of stamped in bottle caps. This is something important. This is a reminder that both the act of being in this place at this moment and a tradition carried on from days gone by has its place here. 

We are late to the airport; but we got there right on time. - Norma Manning