Points of Memory
*I found an old draft of a possible story outline in an older journal. The following story is one that I can't help but think about when I think of the early times of Connie and I just starting to date. It also has me think about all the weird little features I see in other people's property, and whether or not they see it too or take it for granted. It also makes me wonder whether there are hidden features in my own that I am remaining blind to or taking for granted.
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The Catalpa Tree
Many times I drive by farms and rural homes and wonder if the residents see what I see. In my father’s front yard, my friends, brothers, and I would spend hours climbing the sugar maple by the road. PennPower has since left it decapitated and decimated; an embarrassment of the maple I loved in my youth. The scent of lilac also brings me to my youth. Along our fence line was a large lilac bush which had narrow passages I would use as secret hideouts when I was younger. I do not remember whether it was because of the ability to escape four other siblings and be alone or because of the calming aroma that embraced me there that keeps the hideout locked in mind so vividly.
A four way intersection on a favorite shortcut from our hometown to the heart of Mercer held one of those focal points, an extremely large catalpa tree close to the road. I took this road many times on my way to fish in lakes and streams. I wondered if any children climbed the branches, if echoes of laughter were held in the crevices of the bark, if someone let the large, heart-shaped leaf drift as a boat down in the runoff of the ditch, or if some reckless youth whipped the bean pods at passing vehicles.
Years pass between thoughts; seems as if lifetimes separate some moments. I began taking that shortcut less as years went by, moving away from the house of my childhood, working full-time, and finding other alternate routes. I still remember the catalpa decorated with little rope-swings.
By the time I was 25, I had been in a few short-lived and ruinous relationships. I had decided that my focus should be removing myself from the social circles and reenter my safe haven in the wood and water. I began taking more hikes, fishing trips, hunting expeditions, and kayaking. There was an elated feeling I gained by shedding all of the anxious layers brought on by lack of leisure.
Somehow, a young woman was able to break through and contact me during this phase. As we began to talk, I found she was rural girl, who liked riding horses, fishing with her gramps, and going camping. We would usually meet in mutual ground, and she would insist I bring my sisters as well, playing it safe. After a few hiking trips, we decided that we were well suited enough to meet each other’s family.
While following her to her grandfather’s house, we took a short-cut. I realized that my old catalpa was no longer standing. I also realized she was turning into the house where the goliath stump still marked the property. It was her tree. I am holding the hand of the catalpa’s decorator, the small swinger of June, the dark haired leaf diver of September. I had mentioned my long driven attention to the tree when she noticed me looking at the bare area. Oh, how we miss that tree.
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As I mentioned in the passage, it feels like lifetimes separate some moments... we now are in the process of buying her grandparents' old farm. We recently ground the stump of the ancient catalpa. We have also dropped the pines that hid the house from the road (and believe me, there isn't much space between). As we work on the house, we plan on planting a Catalpa near by, rebuilding the barn, digging a pond. We want to make Connie's childhood home into our dream house. Although backbreaking at times, sad at times, time consuming always, we are getting there.
