The morning is dark and cool. We’re under a tornado watch and a flood warning. Last night’s weather was wicked in many places and I haven’t yet heard of all the damage done in Oklahoma and other states.
Sunday, as we drove to the cemetery for Decoration Day, we were amazed to see evidence of huge trees uprooted from last December’s tornado. When a few familiar landmarks are removed, it changes the face of the whole area. Things look different because they are different. Nature and time erase and rearrange with the ease of long experience. It is almost a mystery, how fast things can change.
On our way back home, we passed through a community where my grandparents and my grandmother’s uncle once lived. The house is completely gone, surrounded by trees and wild shrubs and grass. Across the road, the store building which belonged to Uncle Dow Willis and then to Levi Latty is a crumbling ruin, barely visible among the over-growth of trees and bushes. Time has changed things.
If I closed my eyes for a second and listened hard, could I hear the rumble of wagon wheels on gravel roads? Could I hear the ring of a horse’s iron shoes on the rocks? And, would I hear those old-time voices talking, laughing, as they went about their daily business?
But, as we drove home, the car whisked us along, and nothing like that came to my ears, only to my imagination. All was at peace. All was well.
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