After we moved to Georgia I would get in the van, Lou and I, and head out towards the west, and Louisiana. The drive would take close to 12 hours what with all the stops I had to make for me and for Lou. I would catch a bite to eat, buy gas, let Lou stretch his legs, then back in the van and on down the road. Lou passed away and I am not even sure if the van can make that trip now. I guess I have to face the facts, that life is gone, never to return. The house still has the same smells, hauntingly reminiscent of those bygone days. A picture in the hallway reminds me of much happier times. Even the hallway brings back some memories better tucked away in the back of my mind. What happens to our dreams? Why must the reality of life be so far less rewarding and enjoyable than the fantasy? I once had a dream of returning to the country and giving my children a simpler life, one that would offer them the ability to put down roots and share in nature and wholesome living. But just as you can't take the girl out of the country you can't take city kids out of the city and expect them to adapt. It wasn't meant to be or at least it didn't come to pass.
I looked out the window on one sunny afternoon in February and watched my kids playing at sword fighting with some stalks of dried weeds. They were running and laughing and playing hard in the fresh outdoors. It brought tears to my eyes because I knew it would no doubt be the last time they would play like that. I knew they would grow up, and once we moved away, there would no going back. We are now living far away from that life but I look back at that woman who stood and watched her children playing on a warm Louisiana afternoon and wish she had had the courage to stay there at her Red River home.
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