Little Dirt Road

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.