I have just been told I
am leaving earth. I can take one memory
with me. Just one. I choose this:
Sometimes
in the morning, as I sink into the porch swing, the wind comes rushing up the
mountain, as though to greet me.
A lone turkey, who has survived a
shotgun blast, or who is just exploring and got lost, may scuttle across the
edge of the yard, not minding me and my cup of coffee at all. Turkeys are usually always in a gang, so one is
an unusual sight. Today a male ambled
behind a female, keeping a safe distance, because she appeared to be in a tiff
– pouting about something, perhaps?
Sometimes a giant hawk suddenly sails
through the air in that open space between my house and the woods. I see a silent screech of brakes - landing
gear down – legs long, claws extended and slicing through the sky. The wingspan casts a large shadow. He sees something I am not privy to on the sloping
spot covered with tall grass and rocks.
A blue bird perches at the door of the
new house I have crookedly attached to a tree (so I can easily spy). He pokes his head inside the small round
hole, inspecting. Is this a good spot
for the second batch of eggs? He flies
off and in a few minutes, returns and goes inside. Abode approved!
I hear a single bird plaintively calling
and then a whole mess of them, trying to outdo one another in the mountain
choir.
Sometimes I sit all the way through the
sunset and well into the darkness. I
watch trees that can’t sleep because the wind keeps them busy waving on through
the night. I hear the whippoorwill with
his relentless cry. Why say it so many
times, birdie?
Lightning bugs compete with the stars
that twinkle through the tops of the trees.
Who knew they could fly so high?
Serenity. Happiness. Joy. Who knows what the real word is?
In the Bible, it says God know the
desires of my heart. It also says He
went away to prepare a place for me. ME. If it is true that He knows everything I long
for, I will not have to take the sweet memory of porch sittin’ with me. A porch and a swing will be waiting for me
when I get to my permanent home.
But I would take this one memory – just
in case….
Porch sittin’.
