Sunday, August 26, 2018

Whispering fields

Fields of corn whisper as they stand in rows, a regiment of green sentries, watching over the land. A far cry from the shores of the Pacific. Peaceful fields slowly turning to shades of golden brown, waiting to give up their treasure. The gentleness of the fields impressed Loren. He grew up in Colorado before living in the Pacific Northwest. The quiet countryside was such a change from the noises of the suburbs and pace of the city, the mountains and the rivers.

It took us both awhile to settle into our days on the farm in Indiana. A completely different life from that we know in Oregon. We loved the time with friends and family, catching up with the events in their lives and making new memories to take home with us. We took Loren to Shipshewana and the Amish countryside. It was a different perspective on life in America. A different pace. Different points of view. Different energy.

My time with my sister was priceless. We laughed and pulled memories out of the past, revisiting those we miss and times we both lived but did not share due to the age difference. She was with me when I got my new/old saxophone at the Wednesday auction in Shipshewana. It had been years of attending the auctions that I had tried to win the prize. We ate in old haunts and shopped until we ran out of stores. I had my first visit to Ollie's. And, my second. And.....my third. The suitcase was getting fatter, and we had three boxes of memories to ship back as well. As with all visits, they come to an end. There is little that I find much more difficult then leaving my sister. My heart truly felt the distance as we flew to the western coast.

In taking my sax to be cleaned and repaired, I found that it is worth quite a bit more than I paid. I am excited to pick it up once more, reliving those days next to fellow saxophonists David Aukerman and Brenda Stager in the Franklin Monroe band room. My family doesn't believe I can still play it. Hehehehehe. Well, I can.

It took a bit of settling back into the old routine. Well, it isn't all that old, since I have only been living in this house a couple of weeks. The traffic and noise were apparent as we missed those rolling fields of green. Yet we did indeed come home. We came home to a different pace with a different view. There is an energy here and an embracing freedom that we love. How nice it would be to have it all. Well, maybe we do once a year.

The boxes arrived. A magazine rack my father made sits in the living room. A few things from June's home bring her closer to me. Already we are planning a trip back in the spring. And, indeed, some of Neff Road will come to the wedding in December. Yes, we are only a plane ride away, yet in some ways, we are a world apart. Whispering fields.

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