Sunday, May 18, 2014

Step by step

Aunt Welma held my hand, and we walked to the little store behind the barn on the opposite corner. Behind the store was the old Beech Church. On down the road from the store was the home of my Mom's parents. It was the town of Red River. Only took little bit of time to walk through the village.

On a sunny day, Dad and I would walk over to his parent's home which was just around the corner from our house. We always stopped at the old bridge. My grandad lived back a lane, so we hiked two lanes to get there. From there, many times Dad and I would walk to the woods. We hiked across the fields and spent time either at the pond or poking around the woods with Dad telling me all about the plants. Then, we walked back home again.

Sometimes I walked down to my Uncle Keith's house. I liked to see Raymond and Lena Linder when I passed their house. Sometimes I stopped to chat. Uncle Keith lived back a lane. Seems that lanes ran in our family. On a really nice day, I would walk all the way to the end of the road to visit my friend Rowena and to spend the day playing at the parsonage. They didn't live back a lane.

Daily one of us walked our lane to get the mail or to visit Doris and Victor Lavy or to visit Hollie and Margaret Stager. A walk west usually ended up with a visit to both. I walked the lane to go to school and on return did the same. Seems that daily I walked to the bridge by the creek bottom. When I was in high school, I hopped off the bus at the corner of Byreley and Neff and walked home.

I walked to the fields. I walked following the tobacco planter or the rock skid behind the tractor. I walked to the creek bottom to play and to fish. I walked to find mushrooms. I walked to find arrowheads I spent so much time on my feet that they are flat. I love that it was a way of life back on the farm. We thought only of destinations without a pedometer to track the number of steps. I walked my horse. Ran with my dog. Walked miles behind a lawnmower and many, many times chased cows, sheep or chickens.

My son accuses me of not walking enough. Well, maybe I don't, but I think I logged enough miles when I was growing up to last a lifetime. In fact, if you added in all the places I biked, I probably earned enough miles to take me to Heaven. We didn't plan our walks. We just enjoyed the walking that took us past neighbors, sometimes sending us running from Cyril's dogs. And in the end, I walked Neff Road one more time to say good-bye.

1 comment:

Axiesdad said...

I love your posts because they so often remind me of my own childhood. I too walked, to school, after cows, to the creek, and just to explore. I wouldn't trade my childhood for anyone's.