The Importance of Pondering and Memories

Prior to me being born and my subsequent adoption, my parents moved into a quiet little neighborhood in Great Falls, VA right around 1980. Our house sat at the beginning of a pipe stem nestled into the surrounding woods. A single level house with a loft, a basement, and a deck envied by most in our neighborhood, it was all that we needed and we never complained. When it was built, a row of conifers, a mix of black spruce and eastern white pine, were planted on the southern edge of our property separating our yard from the main road. A large, blue-stemmed goldenrod on the same side of the house as the conifers grabbed your attention with it's bright yellow flowers especially in the spring as you drive down our street. Probably the most dominating feature of our property was the large, rounded willow tree in our front yard whose sheer volume engulfed the northwest corner of our house for nearly two decades. The same willow robbed a smaller white pine of it's equally deserved attention as they shared the same corner of our house. Our house had a very small courtyard one would have to walk through as they came to our front door. On one side of the courtyard was a rather robust and prickly holly bush frequented by the neighborhood robins, warblers, and chickadees. The other side boasted a small oak that for some reason never reached full maturity.

Slowly over time, our house has seen some changes. The exterior color went from a very drab collage of browns to subtle blues that manage to contrast perfectly with the green of our surrounding yard. A sunroom was added onto our house on top of most of the deck leaving a small 2 meter by 2 meter sitting area outside accessible only from the sunroom. My bedroom over looks this remnant of our deck. I built a garden for my mom next to our drive way which boasted a variety of perennials and shrubs she would change up every other year or so. We eventually planted a Rose bush next to the Goldenrod bushes. A heart-leafed aster went in between them later. I have a lot of fond memories in and around our house: helping my dad with the yard, building a garden pond for my mother, trips to the nursery, building forts in the the pines, etc. Even at a young age, I knew life would go on and change but I never thought our house would. My childhood home, to me, was infallible.

Today has probably been the nicest day so far this year. With bright skies, robust colors, and a warm breeze, I lazily strolled to our mailbox out on the main street. As I turned around and stood in a spot I frequented to frame the house for photographs, I looked at our yard and marveled at the change it has gone through over the years. The Willow has long lost its volume to pruning, wind, and snow/ice storms. The black spruce has aged into some twisted Dr. Seussian dwarf of a tree. The pine in front of our house fell victim to the first storm of the winter when it toppled over at the roots (it took me 3 days to finish felling and bucking that damn tree). While looking at this changed landscape I couldn't help but relive the changes I've experienced in my life. I thought about my dog, Corolla, long gone and how he loved to run through leaves. I thought about my neighbors (who have long since moved away to the town of Leesburg), the Linton's, and how they mowed their lawns religiously in a clockwise fashion every Friday or Saturday (the husband has since passed away). I remember climbing most of the trees around that have fallen into some state of decrepitude (the willow, the spruce, and the pine(s)). Most vividly, I remember my father. I remember how happy he looked working on our cars or mowing the yard with me. I remember pruning the trees with him every spring. My favorite memory was as I laid in bed almost every summer night, while trying to fall asleep, I would quietly open my window when I heard him open the door leading to our shrunken deck. I remember listening to him sit silently in the tranquility of our summer nights. I had always wondered what he was thinking when he sat out there: was he looking at the starts reminiscing of working for NASA during the Gemini and Apollo programs? Was he reflecting on Vietnam? Was he reflecting on life in general? Out of the many hundreds of times he would spend the last several minutes of his night out on our deck, I never learned what he was thinking. Today, after standing by our mailbox for a few minutes, I finally understood the importance of such pondering...

From Home - D.C