A chair, or a swing under a shade tree could easily allow one to lose him or herself for hours. Like a family reunion, weddings often connect those whom you seldom see. Most often, it is the distance that brings lack of conversation & meetings. Yet sometimes it is the odd twist of an estranged relationship.
More than thirty years had past. The reason of estrangement … it is of little significance for this particular blog. During those same thirty years … many, many visits … had allowed amazing bonds between mutual loved ones. And though attempts were often made in those early years, the proverbial door was never opened. Rather walls … barricades … were in place, with which communicated … not now. And, not ever!
The band played wonderful sixties & seventies music. Laughter & conversations, along with smiles & children playing … was the most evident atmosphere. A dance … a hug … a kiss … a picture. Laughing … loving … reminiscing of days gone by. Special moments for a special couple, and their loved ones.
… Strolling over, I smiled and said, “So, how did we get so old?” “I don't know.” He said. “They definitely go by fast!” “A very beautiful venue for a wedding”. I remarked. “Oh yes it is!” He continued. “Yesterday I took a walk down to the pond and into the trees.” “We have several venues just like this in Oregon”. I stated. To which he responded, “I have a sister in Oregon”. Calling his name, I said, “And I'm her husband”. His bewilderment was more than striking. I slowly drifted away.
Minutes later I returned as he took a picture of a lovely granddaughter & her boyfriend. “Let me take one of the three of you”. I said. “Oh no. That's okay.” He said. Again, smiling, “Please, allow me. You'll never be able to capture this setting”. “Yes grandpa!” She said. Handing me his camera, “This button, correct?” I said. “Yes”, he said. A couple pictures, and I handed the camera back to him.
Though our first twelve years of marriage had us frequently meeting, usually in New England. Three decades of barricading himself from our lives … for absolutely no good reason … had totally erased any remembrance of my face. Of course, as I began … We're old :) Yet … our face … our smile … too me … unforgettable!
The morale of the story … when does the water actually go under the bridge. No one … other than the three of us know the whole story. They wouldn't care if they knew. And they would think … “You haven't spoke to each other for more than thirty years because of this?” It is said, “There are two sides of the story”. Indeed! But honestly … I have long not cared about the story. I care about the missed time. No … the lost time. He has absolutely no idea of who she is. What she's been through. The lives that she has touched. And perhaps … unfortunately … it will remain so.
For moi … I'm too old to care about the drama! Let's move on. Let's cross this bridge. Let's smile … Make memories. The world creates more than sufficient drama within itself. I'm done with the drama! Perhaps the song is right … “Don't worry, be happy”. I can not be responsible for you … how you'll respond. But … I am damn sure responsible for how I respond. And I choose to respond by floating under that bridge … Brightly smiling, as the kayak crashes over & through the waves. Knowing that turbulence is a regular, if not, a daily part of life. And living as a favorite author puts it, “Stop living … Only when you die!”
