A simple plain block of sandstone contains the whole of my life on this earth. It is a remarkable vessel even though it is solid. It has the memory of an elephant even though it has no mind. It holds every emotion I can think of even though it’s an inanimate object. It is a portal to my past even though gravity and mass hold it tightly to the here and now.
In the farthest reaches of my memory, this stone set silently on our front porch, a leftover from the sandstone wall of the porch. It watched as a young couple made its new house a home where they raised their two girls. It watched as the couple aged, and it watched as the husband, father, and grandfather left for the hospital for the very last time. It watched as the two girls grew from babes to adults with babes of their own. It watched as the widow, mother, and grandmother sold the home and moved out to escape the grief and responsibility that went with the house and property. And, finally, it watched as the older of the two girls picked it up and took it home with her. It has been here with me ever since, a silent reminder of life, death, and all that’s been in between.
My, my, if that block of stone could talk, oh, the stories it could tell! Listen..listen carefully…you might even hear it speak…
…The two young girls ran wildly out the front door early on Easter morning. They searched in earnest for the Easter baskets that Mom and Dad had helped the Easter Bunny hide even earlier that morning. Sure that she could see the Easter Bunny’s tracks, the older child led her younger sister to each shrub and tree in the yard until they both emerged from one with two cellophane wrapped Easter baskets. The two girls hurried to the front porch to open their baskets, unwrap the chocolate bunnies, and take a bite out of each. A short time later, Mom called them back in the house. They would emerge again dressed in their very fanciest ruffles for this special day…
…A blanket of stars covered the night sky on a warm summer’s eve. A multitude of small lanterns flashed on and off in the dark that enveloped the mountain home. A handmade quilt covered the grass in the front yard. Mom and Dad sat on the quilt watching their daughters run and play by the light of the stars and moon. The girls chased lightning bugs, catching as many as they could and adding them to a jar with holes in the lid. Once they tired, they joined Mom and Dad on the quilt, each laying her head in the lap of one of their parents. The family talked of this and that while the girls stared at the sky, counting stars and making wishes…
…The smell of fresh mown grass filled the air all around the house on top of the hill. Dad had just finished cutting the grass and sat on the canvas strapped chair on the front porch. Hot and sweaty, he guzzled a 7-Up out of its green glass bottle. All excited that the yard had gotten a haircut, the two young girls knew that they would get to divide another 7-Up between them. Soft drinks came out only on special occasions such as this, and the carbonation fascinated them both. Those effervescent bubbles made their noses tickle and twitch as the girls began to drink. Sometimes they even caused one or the other of the girls to get the hiccups. They giggled when this happened, and that didn’t help their hiccups one bit…
…Dad and Mom wanted to make sure their girls remembered that Christmas was more than a time for Santa and gifts and secular decorations. Dad worked for several hours finding just the right boards to nail together. A string of outdoor Christmas lights completed the project. He and the girls stood in front of the porch searching for the best place to display this new creation. Although the house was practically invisible from the road in either direction, one small area of the porch could be seen by traffic coming over the hill in one direction. With his daughters looking on, Dad lifted the heavy wooden cross up against the porch post with one hand and wrapped twine around it and the post with the other. A long heavy duty extension cord stretched into the garage. Just as dusk settled over the mountains, Dad plugged it in. The 6-foot cross exclaimed, “Christ is born!” as it lit up the falling darkness…
…Every afternoon, the family arrived home for the evening. It was easy to tell they had been at Maw and Paw’s house because every day, they came home with a half gallon of fresh milk that had close to two cups of cream laying on top of the Blue John. Some days an egg carton full of fresh eggs appeared as well. A sandstone shelf jutted out of the wall of the porch just beside the front door, and as they approached the door, the half gallon of milk was gingerly placed on this shelf that had to have been meant for a flower pot that never materialized. Keys out, and the door unlocked, the milk and the family disappeared inside. Somehow, by this time the next day, the family had consumed the whole half gallon of milk, and the whole routine would repeat itself…
…The snow came down in buckets. Soon the driveway disappeared from view, and the sled came out. Daddy watched with a protective eye from the window as his daughters and nephew, wearing enough clothing to make their movements a little stiff, pull the sled to the top of the hill behind the house. His nephew jumped on the sled first, and with a push from the two girls, he sped down the hill, gaining speed exponentially as he went. Just as the speed caused the ride to get so bumpy that he almost fell off, he bottomed out, and started up the other side, quickly slowing to a stop. The kids piled on that sled for most of the afternoon. First one, then the other, and sometimes one on top of the other lay on the sled, making tracks all over the side of the hill as they tried to find the steepest, fastest, and longest trip down. Finally, they went back into the house, leaving most of the layers of clothes in the utility room floor where a puddle of water formed as the snow stuck to the fabric melted. They made hot chocolate and popcorn to eat as they sat next to the wood stove to warm their cold hands and feet…
…The warm ground plentiful rain rewarded the family with a bounty of harvests this year. From garden vegetables to all sorts of wild fruit, they stayed busy all summer long preparing and preserving all they could pick or gather. After a long morning scouring the hills to fill their buckets with wild strawberries, they sat on the front porch engrossed in the tedious job of removing caps no bigger than a nail head from the red pearls with their tart sweet taste. With everyone working together, it still took hours to get the job done. Daddy and the girls went on to other things while Mom tackled the job of making jam. She didn’t finish until around 1:00 the next morning…
…Newly licensed to drive, the older daughter proudly drove Dad’s old red truck with the large side mirrors that stuck way out further than they should. She and her younger sister had driven down the hill to Maw and Paw’s to help with chores. Once everything was finished, they headed back up the hill. Instead of turning in the driveway as usual, the girls followed Dad’s example and drove on over to the closest neighbor’s driveway and turned around. Driving back slowly, the elder of the two thought she was pulling up to the mailbox just as carefully as anyone could. She only had one problem; she had forgotten about those big mirrors, and as she neared the mailbox, the outside of the passenger side mirror just caught the pull on the mailbox, and before she knew it, the mailbox hit the ground. Dad would have a dying duck fit when he came home. They rushed up the driveway, and the older sister grabbed some pliers, a hammer, and some nails. After using the pliers to bend the pull back into shape, she ran down the driveway and worked fervently until she finally had the mailbox back on the post. If Dad ever found out about her mishap, she never knew it…
…Only a few years later, the younger sister would not be so lucky. Newly licensed to drive, Mom allowed her to drive the little yellow Pinto with the wood grain panels to school on Wednesday, her day off. This Wednesday morning, she skipped out the door and off the porch. She opened the garage door, then the car door. She sat down in the seat, fastened her seatbelt, pushed in the clutch, put the key in the ignition, and started the car. After putting it in gear, she twisted her body around and craned her neck to look out the back window before letting the clutch out to back out. All set to go, she let the clutch out slowly. Something was wrong! The car wasn’t backing up. Fear gripped her as she realized that she must have gotten the car in first gear instead of reverse! But instead of pushing the clutch in as she should have, she panicked. She popped the clutch out, and the little Pinto leapt forward. It leapt forward right through garage wall. The only good fortune she had that morning was that she got the car stopped just before it went through the outside brick wall. Yes, Dad did have a dying duck fit, but there was nothing he could do but repair the wall and try his best to match the paint. It didn’t quite work, though, and for many years to come, the family would be reminded of this day when they looked at the large oval of paint that was at least two shades brighter than the rest of the wall…
… The couple held hands and talked with a hush in their voices as they sat on the loveseat on the front porch. The crickets sang their rapid song on this warm summer night as a cool breeze rustled in and out of the trees all around the house. The older of the two sisters swung her feet up on the loveseat and lay her head in the young man’s lap. Here, under the blanket of darkness, they dared to talk of the future of a tomorrow. Time had brought them to love, and love held them tightly on the little loveseat on the front porch…
….The older daughter walked out the front door. My goodness, where had the time gone? Here she was in a simple dress, holding a hanger with a red cap and gown hung neatly on it. She packed it into Mom’s yellow Pinto wagon with the wood grain panels down each side. In a few short hours, she had become an alumnus of Northwest Ashe High School, and she knew her life had changed forever. Friends she had known her entire life left that night with plans that would spread many of them far and wide, and she knew they would likely drift apart. She had so many mixed emotions about the road that lay ahead of her. Three years later, the younger daughter would repeat this same process…
…The family posed together on the front porch as their son-in-law pointed the camera in their direction. Mom, Dad, and their two daughters all smiled as the camera snapped several times. The film went in the mail right away, and in a couple of weeks, the pictures arrived back. A couple more weeks passed, and the older daughter and her family came again to visit. The envelope with the pictures lay on the dining room table. She opened the envelope and looked with eager eyes, but as she flipped through the shots of the family, her heart sank. Pictures don’t lie, and these showed just how sick Dad’s cancer and the treatments for it had made him. A tear slipped down her cheek. It would be the last picture she would have of her whole family. Dad would die a short time later…
Mom closed the door to the house on the hill for the last time. She had stayed on after Dad died and had adjusted to life without him. She kept the younger daughter’s children during the day, and life became routine again. Then the younger daughter had some tests, and the news was not good. She would live three more years before cancer took her life, too. Mom tried to adjust again, but it was just no good. This house, this home that had held so many good memories now had a dark shadow over it. She could not stay any longer. She had no trouble selling it and the farm, and she moved to town. As she left for the last time, she picked up the sandstone rock on a whim and took it with her…
…Mom did finally settle into her new home in town. Life was different there. The sandstone rock set on her front porch where neighbors came to visit and cars passed by. It was their when her older daughter and her family came to visit, and it was there when her younger grandchildren came to spend the weekends with her from time to time. Seasons changed, and years slipped by. Then as Mom prepared for Thanksgiving one year, she fell to the floor, stricken by a stroke. She died just days later. The older daughter waited a few months before tackling the job of cleaning out the house. It was a tough job, and with each trip out the door, she glanced over at the sandstone rock. It occurred to her that the stone had been a silent friend all these years, experiencing life with her through all its ups and downs. As she closed the door to the house in town for the last time, she picked up the stone and placed it gently in her car. She couldn’t bear to leave it behind. So now the sandstone rock sets on her back porch still taking in all the life around it. It holds new memories of laughter from friends gathered around the dining room for “can’t eat another bite” meal, of dogs tumbling and rolling over each other as they play, of cats curled up in the flower boxes, of clucking hens and eggs gathered , of shucking corn and breaking beans, of tractors mowing grass and then working it into hay bales, and so much more..
…Someday, maybe this sandstone rock will move again, maybe this time to the home of the oldest daughter’s daughter where it will become a part of her family’s life. There’s enough room in that rock for generations upon generations of memories…