Previous Challenge Entry (Level 2 – Intermediate)
Topic: Yellow (11/12/09)
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TITLE: A Place To Return To | Previous Challenge Entry
By Sylvia Brown
11/18/09 -
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One day I was comtemplating an up-coming trip to Disney World. I've been three time already, and I didn't lose a thing. Otherwise, I had no real desire to return. However, there were some younger family members who had never been or had made only one visit over 20 years earlier. So, when I got the invitation, I couldn't refuse. But, thinking about the trip reminded me of the previous ones and many other journeys I'd made.
I come from the hills and foothills. I'm used to changing elevations, trees, rocks, and flowing waters. I've enjoyed traveling to cities, beaches, and flat lands that show 20 miles of expanse at a glance. But, after a while, my heart turns back to the familiar.
I remember one of my first trips to the beach. On the way home, as my husband drove, I watched the landscape. We crossed small bridges that spanned stips of stagnant looking water. The further we went, the more anxious I became to catch a glimps of a babbling brook; I wondered how far inland we'd have to go before that happened.
Another time, while visiting a costal recreation and shopping area just before starting home, I remember thinking, "OK, lets get this over with. I'm ready to see hills and trees that are't palms."
When I'm on a road trip, I often enjoy the drive more than the destination; I love the expanses of nature. It's one more reason I miss my late husband. He would drive and I would navigate and take in the scenery. Now that I do the driving, I've had to learn to be content with brief glances.
After my husband passed away, one of our children moved close to a southeastern costal area. I took several routes on my visits until I found the best one. When I near my destination, I take a highway that cuts through many miles of farming country. When I first began my ventures into this part of the country, I became familiar with what I call, black water swamps. Stagnet water gets backed up into low lying wooded areas; the rotting wood and vegitation gives the water a blackish appearance.
On this particular road, pass a small stand of trees with such an area of standing water to my right. Just past that an older farm house comes into view on the left. Fields and other buildings spread out on both sides on past the house. All in all, It's a very pleasant looking place.
As I considered what my heart longed for when I was away for a while, I thought about this spot too. It occurred to me; someone who might have spent a happy childhood on that farm would long for the sight of the black water swamps the same way I did for the babbling brooks. It would be what told them they were near home. It's like the excitement I use to feel as a child when, in a place a little deeper into the south, we would turn off of the pavement onto a white sand road flanked by woods of tall straight pine trees. I knew that my grandparents, cousins, aunts, and uncles were just around the bend.
For me, it's hills, rocks, trees,and flowing water. But, for others it could be any place from, flat lands, desert, sea shore, a city street, or a swamp that brings about that warm yellow glow of a special memory.
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