Memory Road

I lead a sort of Twilight Zone existence, in that I frequently think, as I’m turning onto a road I’ve never been on before, that I will, by turning there, get to visit a different time period of my life.

I found one such road today. Seeing scenery and homes and people for the first time reminds me of all the other first times I’ve had, when people long gone were still here, or when life was mostly a future thing.

We lived in Florida when I grew up; I now live in Georgia. However, my dad had a once a year trip here (where I am as I write this). He used to bring home photographs of this place, a beautiful set of gardens.

I am always expecting to see him on these drives, and I pull over to look at the flowers, which are stunning.

Many of you have lost a parent, or both parents; my dad is gone, but my mom is still here, just far away. I realized, recently, that both of them gave us (my sister, my brother, and me) everything they could of themselves, inside and out, and that I carry them around everywhere I go, really.

I stopped at a convenience store, really to use the bathroom, but I always try to buy something when I do. A very young woman was the only one working; their ice machine was broken and customers were complaining (it is almost 100 degrees today). I asked her how she was when I got to the front of the line (there was no one in line behind me) and she said she was having an anxiety attack. So I told her, if it would help, that (1) I didn’t need any ice (she laughed, which was a good sign) and (2) I could stand outside a few minutes and warn customers the ice machine was broken. She thanked me with a sort of watery smile. After about 15 minutes, when there was a lull, she came out and thanked me, and that she was feeling a little better.

“Hang in there,” I said. “You, too, sir,” she said.

Love is the recognition, I think, that we are really all the same. We live in time, people come and go, but all of us, everywhere and in every age, look for our loved ones, remember the best days, gain life by breathing in a garden, and need a little help, every so often.

So, maybe one day, you’ll be out driving in the country, and you’ll find a highway new to you, and we might see each other there. I’m the crew cut guy with giant sunglasses, you can’t miss me. Come up and say hi.

Then I’ll have a new first time to remember.

– Owen

Author: Owen Servant

Owen "Beleaguered" Servant (a/k/a Sibelius Russell) writes poetry mostly, with an occasional pause to have a seizure.

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