family memories

Stopping the Book

| Flower Roberts

I made the decision to stop writing the book I have been working on for two years. The threads of storyline that I started out with have been twisted and severed. The Pearson Women took on a life of its own and took me down roads I never anticipated.

I have uncovered many surprises and several shocks along the way. I have learned alot about my family history. My research has been the subject of family discussions.

I hit a really rough spot several weeks ago. I spent hours trying to find little details I needed which turned up nothing. I have been hitting dead ends and finding dead sources.

The research about the train wreck that killed my great grandfather in 1959 was the clincher. I won’t visit that dark rabbit hole again.

The Pearsons

I have uncovered details about relatives that were not shared for a reason. I believe that sometimes the folks of the past protect the future generations from their sadness by not passing along harmful, painful information.

Maybe someday I will pull out my files and do profiles of each of the characters for my children and realtives to enjoy.

But for now, I am going to be grateful for the good things these people passed down to my generation. I choose to trust their judgement in leaving some things buried in the past.

FLOWER drawing the line.

My Daddy’s Chair by the Window

| Flower Roberts

I have been spending alot of time in one of the chairs we call ‘Daddy’s Chair’ by the window in my parents’ bedroom on the mountain. More snow came last night. I watched a firetruck and ambulance drive by with lights on. There was a car slid off the slick pavement in the curve up the road. I could see the flashing red lights through the snow and passing cloud. It was getting dark.

Traffic lined up in the white and darkness waiting to pass.  The emergency vehicles finally left, but the line of traffic stayed. Two big dump trucks went around the line, on the wrong side of the road in the dark. They must have had a mission involving the mishap.

I kept leaving the window to do chores and coming back to check the line of stopped cars and trucks. Some turned around and left. Others pulled up to wait. This went on for over two hours.

I washed dishes. They were waiting. I took a shower. Still waiting. I read a chapter. Still out there. Were they cold? Hungry? Tired?  Probably yes to all three.

On the community website folks ask about the safety of those involved. No complaints or whining. Just concern and sharing information. Communicating while patiently waiting.

I saw it all from my daddy’s chair by the window. His morning lookout. Daddy would sit here to drink coffee in the mornings. My sis and I would sneak in with our own cups and sit on the edge of our parents’ bed. Sometimes our poor mom would still be in bed and have to scooch over to make room for us.

We would discuss what Daddy had seen out the window and what he hoped the day would bring. We would catch up on the neighborhood news. Swap stories and quietly laugh as others slept.

I thought about those times as I kept coming back to that chair to peek out the window into the darkness, hoping not to see a row of lights still stranded out in the cold.

My being here on the mountain keeps my parents near me. Especially when I sit in my Daddy’s chair by the window.

FLOW in more snow.