It stormed today. Hailed even. Norm and I were in town when the worst of the storm hit. As soon as we were able, we got on the road to come home before the next predicted wave hit.
We witnessed fallen trees in our path. I am always saddened by the sight of a dying tree, but I thanked the universe for sparing the lives of those unfortunate (or unsuspecting) travelers who had to brave the weather. Swift road crews had already begun working to clear the roads of debris. Grâce à Dieu.
Early seventies music – my mom’s music – was playing on the radio. Neil Young. I find it hard to listen to seventies music. It always takes me back to my childhood in the sad little city. Mama struggled to scrape enough nickels to put a roof over our heads and food in our bellies. She worked hard to keep us together, but her efforts did little to assuage the sadness that enveloped my soul. Yet she tried.
This music takes me back to that place, a place I’ve been running from my entire adult life.
As we turned off the highway. Norm said, “Isn’t this a pretty road?” I agreed. The road that leads to home, even covered with the storm’s detritus, is beautiful. In spite of it all.
Stacy Rambles 
What an interesting post, and also comments. Sometimes life is very sad, and everything seems to be permeated with that sadness, including music, smells and other gateways to memory. I suppose without the darkness, we could never appreciate the light. Like Kathy, I also think about our spiritual home. When our daughter was very small (4 or so), she would sometimes, in moments of stress and unhappiness, sit on her bed and wail, “I want to go Home!” I knew that she wasn’t talking about the house that she lived in…
Home seems to be such an elusive place, at least for me. I know what the Dafter was trying to say – I feel still feel that way sometimes. xo
Music and scents can evoke such strong feelings in me as well…..I like you struggle to take the best from the past and try to leave the unpleasant memories alone to examine when I want to but to not let them determine my joy…..
I like that “not let them determine my joy.” That’s good advice! xo
Dearest Stacy,
Oh, such heavy rains always evoke sentimental and even melancholic thoughts… None of us probably had a youth with enough for all in the family. My parents had to really work hard for their seven children. Nothing of luxury left for themselves… And thus, life passes and the time is running out. But what is being rich?! Can you fill that in…
“There is nothing higher and stronger and more wholesome and useful for later years than some good memory, especially a menory connected with childhood, with home. If a man carries many such memories with him into life, he is safe to the end of his days, and if we have only one good memory left in our hearts… even that may sometime be the means of saving us.”
― Fyodor Dostoyevsky
Sending you hugs,
Mariette
Those are beautiful – and true – words, Mariette. Certain sounds, smells, and sometimes events trigger memories. And I have made fond memories throughout my life. As you said, those will carry me to the end of my days. xo
Sorry, this was something I quoted from Fyodor Dostoyevsky… thus not my words! My feelings; YES!
“The road that leads to home, even covered with the storm’s detritus, is beautiful. In spite of it all.” I am pausing by your sentence here and thinking about our spiritual home. In spite of it all–it spite of the storm’s detritus which surrounds us–perhaps it’s more beautiful than we even know. Even with the sadness. Thank you for this lovely post, Stacy Lynn! I am glad you got home safely.
Yes, I do believe that it is more beautiful than I acknowledge sometimes. You, on the other hand, see it and embrace it – all of it, Kathy. I’ve learned this about you over the years. You’ve helped me open my own eyes. xo