Funny enough, as I make my meandering way towards Seattle, I have yet to see a day without torrential rain. The showers have been brief, but regular, and my time in the Appalachians was no exception.
I’ve been visiting my grandparents at their property near Boone, affectionately known as ‘Sourwood’.
It is quite possibly the most beautiful house I’ve ever been in. It’s a big house, but not massive. It sits upon a wooded slope that descends to a stream that constantly gurgles and roars. The woods are lush, but not dense – perfect for exploration. Beyond the stream, a pond filled with trout waits for a fisherman and his grandchildren to while the day away.
And everything in the house, and about the house, feels like it belongs there. From my grandfather’s den, where a simple jeweler’s table waits for making fishing flies. To the covered porch with simple white furniture and a cushioned swing that grants a view through the tree tops to the stream below. A perfect spot for reading all day.
It is a house filled with so many memories – of family gatherings, Thanksgiving meals, and summers playing in the steam, building dams and fishing.
My grandfather, so easygoing and kind, and my grandmother, who cooks such delicious meals and hosts such wonderful gatherings, regaled me with fascinating stories the past few days.
PopPop and GaGa
We discussed all sorts of strange connections I had never known. Stories like one of a woman – once a patient of my grandfather’s – who also happened to help compose the soundtrack to the Disney version of Snow White. She knew Walt Disney, and once told my grandfather that Walt was planning to buy some land near a little town called Kissimmee. Or another story, of a relative who was a chemical engineer at Proctor and Gamble, and how he helped invent Pampers.
On that wonderful porch, we talked about how times were changing, and of things gone by. You see, my grandparents are selling that house. The winters are getting hard, and the move to Florida is understandable.
Later, as I listened to the rain pit-pattering through the trees, I reflected on how much my own life is changing. And that, even though it is sometimes painful, change is good. It cannot be avoided. It makes us grow, and confront the world.
As I walked through the wood,
The light began to fade.
The straight trail began to wind,
And branches closed my way.
My path was lost,
My mind afraid,
And upon that wood,
Fell the layers of the rain.
But within that gloomy sight,
Tiny streams sprang to life,
Running, gurgling happily,
No rock, nor gnarled root could stay,
The pathways of the rain.
For when the wood was darkest,
And I stood all alone,
The rain urged me on,
Carrying me back home.
And long after I’ve left that wood,
And all the sky is tame,
No matter where I’m lost,
The memories will remain.
The house is beautiful, but it is our experiences and the people in our lives that make us, especially during trying times. And no matter how dark it may seem, there is always a silver lining, if you know where to look. My grandparents make Sourwood special. Now, they will be even closer to home.
I will miss that house. But the memories will remain.
