The Path Out



I took this shot of the field on the last walk we took, late in the
afternoon of December 10, after the house was emptied, swept
and scrubbed, so that nearly every trace of our 20 years of
occupancy was rubbed out. Everywhere we turned, there were
memories, but mostly we were just exhausted.

Max showed up just as the dumptruck was leaving, hauling off the
last of the broken things and junk from the yard, and we walked
through the house with him.

Here's where you were born, Max - right here! - and here's where
your brother jumped off the roof, and here's where Sandi's puppies
were, and Ana and Jody's wedding was there, in the pasture --
and the trees we planted, the fences we built...and how many people
ate at our table, and how many were healed here...uncountable numbers.

One more walk through the path of the field as the mountains glowed
purple. Max hugged his father and thanked him, and we all cried, grateful
that it was over and grateful that we endured those years and all the
pleasures and pain we experienced in that place, and then we closed the
door for the last time. No regrets, really...it was past time for a change.


The last load goes out