When I first started driving to work again after quite a few years of riding the bus I was a little irritated by it all. After all my driving to work has coincided with the drastic raise in the price of gas. This is not something that pleases me. My car doesn't get the best gas mileage...but I have reasons for hanging on to it a little longer.
As the days went by I realized I was being given an opportunity to re-live a part of my life that had been long forgotten and buried away with so many other things. I have the option to take Old Main St. in South Windsor once again. This is a route I used to take to work about 20 yrs ago, when I was working in East Hartford..when I was new at the bank and everything was still shiny.
So I started taking Old Main St. on the way home. At first it was for the peace and quiet and for the opportunity to unwind that I'm missing so much from my bus rides. But then it gradually became a trip down memory lane as I began to really look around and remember things from those days. Many of the houses are the same...some exactly the same. I can glance this way and see the beautiful stone wall that I watched being built bit by bit every day...it's still standing and looks perfect. I can look over there and see the house that belonged to that family that used to have an Irish Setter romping across the yard every day, greeting them and playing ball. I still remember the painful realization that hit me one day, when I noticed the raised plaque and new flower bed that was their tribute to that wonderful dog when they no longer had him. For the longest time I kept looking for another Irish Setter in that yard...perhaps a new puppy? But there never was one that I ever saw...never another dog for the family. I had my own Irish lass at home back then...my Charlotte. I shed a tear or two for that unknown Irish Setter and his family when I came to know he was gone. I still get all weepy just looking at the house now.
And then there's that odd looking house with the ripped window curtain in the upper story window. Seems like that house has had a tough time of it..and I think that same ripped curtain has been there all these years too. I remember when the floods came every spring that house would be surrounded by water and I watched every day to see how high it would go. I wondered if it ever got in the basement or did they just squeak by with the water only about a foot from the house. The shed in the back yard has a large hole in the roof now. Somehow that seems to fit the overall image it presents and I find it endearing. There are no children's toys out on the front lawn these days but there's still a van parked in the dirt driveway most days.
And down the road a little farther that barn and tree that used to fight over space, have come to an uncommon looking agreement. It always looked like the barn was trying to crowd out the tree and I wondered why somebody didn't just take that tree out of the way. The tree was small then and could have been cut down or perhaps moved to another area. But nobody did anything and that tree kept fighting to stay right where it was, refusing to die and clinging to life. The tree now appears to have grown around the edge of the barn and leans out in the other direction, toward the sun. Good for you tree! You deserve to live and it makes for an interesting look from the road.
It occurred to me the very first day I was back on Old Main St., that I used to follow Stu Woodard to work almost every morning for so many years. His license plate said simply 'Stu' so there was no mistaking him. Of course he used to drive so slow there was no mistaking him anyway. But I'd never pass Stu. He was my fathers friend and I'd known him since I was a toddler. Somehow it seemed disrespectful to pass Stu so I could get to work faster. And I like to think now that he might have been placed in front of me so many times because I was supposed to learn to slow down and appreciate life and the things around me. I was in such a hurry back then.
Well I've finally learned that lesson Stu...although you are no longer here for me to follow. I doubt you knew you were teaching me anything...but I always knew you were chuckling in your car knowing it was killing me to go so slow and also confident that I wouldn't pass you.
When I come off of Old Main St. I see the sheep that sometimes crowd around the fence at the farm on the end of the road. The Post Office is stuck there too and the farm fields seem to wrap all around it. The sheep have been there since my kids were very young although they are probably not the same sheep. We stopped to look at them one day so long ago and Justin (about 5 at the time) piped up with Oh sheep! I just want to hug and kiss them! We all laughed at that but it's a lovely memory for me now.
And not far from the sheep are the chickens, which I refer to as 'sidewalk chickens', because they are often meandering down the sidewalk, pecking at bugs and seeds in the grass that grows along side of the road. It's somehow peaceful and calming to see those chickens...again, probably not the same ones that were there 20 yrs ago, but still capable of bringing forth memories of sunny days and carefree times with my kids. They also represent the first 'free range' chickens I ever saw, although that term was unknown to me back then. I thought it odd back then that they were not penned in a yard of some kind with a chicken coop but now I'm very happy to see them loose and free to pursue all manner of chicken activities. We seem to have come full circle with chickens haven't we?
So almost every day now I make a conscious decision to take Old Main St. home. I drive slower than I ever did before and I look. I look at everything I never really looked at before and I look even closer at the things I used to glance at without really registering them. I note the changes that have taken place as well as the things that have remained suspended in time. And I appreciate it all much more than I ever thought I would. I'm finally learning to slow down, Stu!
The car I'm driving now is not the same car I drove back then. As I mentioned, it's not very fuel efficient either. The price tag on gas feels like a rock around my neck sometimes but this car has a special place in my heart. My father helped me buy this car. We picked it out together and it's been a good car, as cars go. Well my father is no longer here so the memories surrounding him are hard to let go. Some of the roads I travel on my way home are the same roads that my Dad drove for many years on his way to and from work too. As I drive these roads, in the car that Dad helped me buy, on the roads that Dad (and Stu) drove for many years, I can feel him. He's with me on the road. And I'm just not ready to let that go.
Eventually I will buy a new car and mourn the loss of my Buick for awhile. But I'll still drive on those same roads my Dad drove on. And I'll still crane my neck a bit to catch a glimpse of the sheep that Justin wanted to hug and kiss or some sidewalk chickens doing a great impression of free range.
And it all makes me wonder one thing. We all know that nothing stays the same but does anything ever really change?
