Wednesday, September 23, 2009

Autumn Memory

An apology: My writing has been a little slow. I clumsily broke and dislocated my right pinky. The finger has been 'relocated' but pain meds and difficult 'keyboardmanship' are making this difficult. Please hang with me.

My sisters were in the church youth group, and my parents were leaders. Babysitters were unthought of in 'those days,' so I tagged along to their activities. On a crisp fall evening, Dad would fill the wagon bed with bales of straw. The kids would pile in sitting around the sides with feet curled up and blankets tucked around warmly-padded bodies. The scent of straw and fall leaves filled the air. Laughter and camp song erupted as the hayride began.

Our destination was several miles away at the old stone house at Camp Sugar Grove. The house build of river rock was nestled along a rippling creek. Someone usually arrived at the house early setting the fireplace ablaze and hot chocolate and cookies ready to greet the teens. Flames danced casting shadows on the stone walls and vaulted ceiling, on our faces as we roasted hot dogs over the fire. We snuggled during vespers drawing warmth from one another.

The return trip was quieter. A few flashlights glimmered. A lone voice would break out in song soon followed by the rest of us gradually splitting into beautiful harmonies.

I was just a little girl tagging along on the hayride. And, still, the desire to go on one more pulls on my heart stings. "By the light of the silvery moon......"

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