Old, dirt road

So, yesterday was wild at work. I mean, as an editor, I have times when things are pretty cool and laid back, when the deadlines are rather forgiving. And then, I have months like July--when I have four deadlines in four days. (In a normal month, we have a total of four deadlines on average.)

I had so much work in front of me that I barely had time to get up to make the seven-second walk to the bathroom. And finally, when it was all over with for the day, I quietly packed up my things and headed for the door.

There was this heaviness. I sighed. Sometimes, when I get really busy, I forget that I ever had a sister. Is that mean? And then reality snaps me right back into place. You know, like on the drive home, when I think about how nice it would be to call her ... just to tell her about my day.

(I love words on paper, because I never have to apologize for my tears in mid-sentence.)

At the first redlight, I texted hubby. "I really need a date tonight."

I just needed him to save me for a moment. I needed him to take care of me. I needed him to tell me that, you know, I'm pretty and all that stuff we love to hear. It was only Monday, but I needed our Friday date.

When he made it home from his 12-hour shift at the hospital, he simply asked me to get ready. And to choose any place. But, I was too drained to even do that. "Your choice tonight. Take the lead. I'm too tired to lead anything. Even food."

And so, (since we now live in Jonesville--a tiny little town sandwiched between Gainesville, a college town; and Newberry, the little country town where I grew up) he decided to venture into Newberry. On any normal date night, we'd have taken a right into Gainesville.

But, it was Monday and we were both tired. So, we decided we'd take the left into Newberry. Funny, I rarely venture into the little town, that is rich with my childhood memories. I think that is the reason why I usually ignore what is to the left of me.

It reminds me too much of my sister; of our childhoods.

"Turn here," I said to hubby before we made it to the main road. "This is a short cut. It will take you right into Newberry."

I hadn't even thought much about it, but as soon as he turned, I realized what I had just done. This little road leads right to my old neighborhood and further down, I knew the little, old dirt road would be coming up.

Only, it had been paved sometime since my childhood.

"We used to walk down this road when we were kids," I said to hubby. "And we used to make that left and we would just walk and play. We had nothing better to do."

I remember the days distinctly--almost as if I could reach out and touch the blue sky that we peered up at, together, about 20 years ago. And the old little shack, it was still there, looking as if it would fall if the wind even hinted at blowing. Everything looked the same--except for the paved road.

We were almost to the end of the once-dirt road when I recognized an old landmark from my childhood.

"A girl from highschool died right there," I said, as we passed a huge Oak tree whose body leaned just a little into the road. Sometime while I was in highschool, a girl had run smack into that tree while she was driving. And she died instantly. Or so it was told to me.

The memories were bitter.

About 10 minutes later, hubby and I were sitting down at one of my favorite places to eat. (Although, I don't frequent it, you know, because it's in Newberry.) I pulled out the laptop and we began working on something when I stopped.

My hands were frozen at the keyboard. I was sitting in the middle of this little country diner, where, you know, Garth Brooks should be playing overhead. Instead, the song came on. I call it our song. We played it at her funeral and I always, always think of her (and usually cry) when I hear it. It was Celine instead of Garth on this Monday night.

"For all those times you stood by me.
For all the truth you made me see.
For all the joy you brought to my life.
For all the wrongs that you made right.
For every dream you made come true.
For all the love I found in you.
I'll be forever thankful baby."

I was gone for a moment--imagining those summers in Newberry, when we'd explore that old dirt road. And it really stung. I just wished with everything in me that it had turned out differently ... that we'd be eating at the little barbecue joint in Newberry with our children; listening to this song together, humming the words while looking over the little paper menus.

But, I can never get those summers back. Things have changed; and I have no control over any of it. The old dirt road that we used to walk and ride bikes and skip down, it's gone too.

Our cute little waitress was ready to take our order just as the song was winding down. My face was hot and my eyes, a bit teary. But, I wasn't crying. And so I ordered the chicken tenders with a side of mac and cheese.

And I realized that one day, I'll be begging to have these very moments--in a quiet little diner with hubby--back. And so, just as I savored the mac-and-cheese, I savored the moment. Even though it hurt to realize that she was gone.

On the way home, I decided to take the long way back. I don't think I want to travel down the once-dirt road ever again. Goodbye, old friend. You were good to me--for a time.