As the summer
comes to a close I reflect upon the summers of my childhood and I smile, cry
and also give thanks for the lessons I learned. At the time I had no idea I
would use these memories to be better person in my adulthood but as I sit here writing
I am so grateful for what I learned and experienced.
A typical summer day in my life consisted of getting up
before the roosters started crowing in the chicken house, I would drag down the
steps, still feeling the heat on my body from the previous work day in the sun.
I drudged into the kitchen with sleepy eyes, and watched as Mama finished up
cooking breakfast. I slumped in my chair still trying to understand why I had
to get up so early.
Daddy would come in with a smile, who smiles this early?
As Mom served us a good old fashioned Southern breakfast of
fried eggs, bacon, grits, biscuits and fresh cut tomatoes from our garden I
would patiently wait until she sat down, and nodded at me to say the blessing.
Her morning feast could always wake me up.
Dad and I would head out the door, the humidity already crashing
into us, we chose our chores for the day. Sometimes it was gardening all day,
others it was mowing, raking, clipping, cutting and getting the yard squared
away. There was also the summer we spent building the pond, all day work of
cutting trees down, dragging the crush away, clearing land, lots of laughs,
tons of sweat and feeling exhausted at day’s end.
I never imagined that life was any different, it was all I
knew. We worked. We worked together and then at dusk again Mama would grace us
with a country fried supper that I can still smell if I close my eyes and lick
my lips. Fresh veggies we grew ourselves, meat that we had butchered and a
feeling I have come to love of self-satisfaction from growing and doing it
ourselves.
The highlight of the week was quickly approaching, Sunday.
Not just a day of rest, a day of church, family, fellowship and some awfully
gorgeous memories.
Hurrying into our little brown church with Mama and Mimi,
griping about wearing a dress and fidgeting with my hair, I sat there and took
it all in. I look back down and the words from the pulpit are not only what
sink in, but also the hand of my Mother holding mine, the smile while we sung
my favorite hymns from my grandma, and the sweet smile of my first love looking
back to sneak a peek at me.
Sitting at my Mimi’s table after church, devouring an
amazing Sunday lunch, I couldn't wait to get home, I wanted to stay at her
house but I couldn't wait for the rest of this beautiful Sunday to unfold.
One Sunday stands out in my mind.
Mr. and Mrs. Wicker lived just up the hill from our house.
They would be getting home from church and finishing up lunch about the same
time as us and I begged Mama to go up there and play with their granddaughter
Deb.
I was met by one of the sweetest, most hard working men I
have ever known, Deb’s grandpa Newton.
He welcomed me in, and instantly our silly girl giggles and
antics began.
Mr. Wicker watching over us, sitting there in his chair, as
we frolicked in his cow pasture without a care in the world.
We saw him get up and start messing with something, so we
bounced right over.
He had made us a very country swimming pool. Deb grabbed her
bathing suit and let me borrow one so we could get in as fast as we could. This wasn't just any country pool; this was the mother of all pools. Her grandpa had
made us a pool out of a cow trough.
It was incredible! We splashed, we laughed, and we dived
down like we were near the Great Barrier Reef.
I think we stayed in that thing for hours, I could hear Mom
calling up the hill for me to come home, and knowing better than to ever tempt
my fate, I ran home, still laughing and smiling from such a simple Southern
Sunday.
I don’t have to tell you that our biggest meal of the week
was on Sunday night, and that specific Sunday I prayed even harder because I
was so thankful for such a good day.
Monday came far too quickly, and back to work we went, and
it always continued in this pattern.
Now, while writing this I mentioned Mr. Wicker, today 3
years ago he passed away.
He left a legacy to this world that I hold very dear. He
taught his family just as I was taught, work for what you want, don’t stop, and
on Sunday, take things slow and easy and reflect on the goodness you have been
given.
I can’t count how many times I have been moving the yard,
splitting wood or picking green beans and hear him coming down our road with a
load of hay, grand kids hanging off the back, and we all waved at each other. A
way of life; a way of life that now is
sadly not observed like it should be, maybe it is my country raising or maybe I
just am old fashioned but I believe things in life goes much better when you
work hard all week with your family, together, and then come Sunday you rest
and visit together.
I miss Mr. Wicker, his dedication to his family and his
strong work ethic are to be admired, but I must say he raised some mighty fine grand kids and great grand kids that are following in his footsteps.
I never thought that at 40 years old I would miss being out
in 100 degree wearing tilling up ground and planting row after row of corn and “maters”
but I sure do.
I am so appreciative for those hot summer days, because it
instilled in me a simpler way to live, a strong connection to family and a true
love for being country.
I thank Mr. Wicker and my parents and Mimi for teaching me
these things, not by words but through their actions.
Life doesn't have to be complicated people, unless you allow
it to be. Work hard, love your family and follow the good book and you are
doing alright.
I wouldn't mind finding an old cow through and hanging by
the “pool” with Deb again.
Live simply, love simply and hard, and work with passion for
the rewards are great my friends.
The picture I am using with this thought for the day is of
Mr. Wicker, his grandson and son. Thank you Deb for letting me use it.
Here are my thoughts.
©
Teresa ;)
