There is a little dirt road leading to the edge of the lake
that glistens in the sunshine, the air is full of the scent of barbecue and
campfires, you can hear laughter, music, boats and see children running through
the fields.
As soon as I turn down the road I feel like I can see my Dad.
I feel like if I listen hard enough I
will hear his laughter coming from the other side of the campground and I will
know just where to find him. A million flashbacks come flooding in that no one
else in the car with me will ever understand.
Everything there is a memory. Everything there is just the
same yet so different. Everything that’s nothing to them is something to me.
Every glance is a memory. Every face I see reminds me of
something good. Then the thoughts come to me
of all the faces I can’t see anymore. The
way it was is gone. Life changes, people change and times have changed. Our
elders pass on and children grow up. The circle of life keeps circling. I was once one of those children running
through the fields and now you can see my children in that same field. You can’t
go back in time, you can’t relive moments nor would I want to because then I wouldn’t
have my beautiful children beside me to make new memories with or be able to
tell them “How things use to be”.
Everything is something. Everything is beautiful. Everything
reminds me of something special. Everything old is new again as each generation
keeps the place alive.
There is this little dirt road leading to anywhere you want
it to take you. I take this road even when it’s hard because my Dad would want
me to. He would expect me to share this place with my family exactly the way he
shared it with me for all of those years. I take the road Dad; I will always take the
road.
