Roots, Robbers, and Living

I wanted to post today on The Silent Woods, not just because it's my day of the week to post but because I've been thinking a lot about history and family and things that only make sense to people who lived them with you.


My sister is quite ill and it brings about the stark realization that time is fleeting and if one isn't careful there comes a point in time in life where no one truly "gets" exactly what you're saying. Not having lived it there is no way that one can nod in understanding.


I totally remember the time there was a "robber" or at least someone traipsing around the farm late at night and my mom sat up all night with her pistol on her lap and we laughed about her shooting a mouse if it ran across the floor. She was a woman to be reckoned with. No one would "get" the absolute picture of this situation without having lived on the desolate farm, alone most nights as my dad worked second shift.


We were talking at the hospital yesterday how people didn't used to have "text" relationships. Heck, back then we didn't have a phone let alone text messaging. In some ways it was a whole lot easier. If you needed to talk to someone, you went and found them and had a face to face conversation.


The girls and I went by the hospital the day after Christmas and it still makes me smile thinking of Shirley bursting into song when we were making fun of her crazy talk....


" You may be right
I may be crazy
But it just may be a lunatic you're looking for
Turn out the light
Don't try to save me
You may be wrong for all I know
But you may be right"


Kelsey promptly came home and ordered a Billy Joel record with the song on it to play on her new record player that she got for Christmas. Again, having "lived" it with someone (the hospital episode) made it all the more meaningful. For years to come, no one will really "get it" when we decide to belt out that single verse and laugh at our craziness!


I'm rambling and feeling a little melancholy. In the end though we all just want to say we did the best we could to live this life. At the end of a dusty road full of pot holds, perhaps the farm made life all that more special.