Looking out the window

August 28, 2016

August brings the anniversary of a personal milestone that generally goes unremarked. I've now lived in this same spot for thirty-five years - definitely more than half my life. It's almost two-thirds of my life, but I shall drop that thought and move on. 

Back in 1980, when my grandparents gifted me with three acres of land, it was completely wooded. I worked alongside grandfather, father, and then husband to clear an acre to drill a well, install a septic system, and build a house. It was hard, physical work and I regret none of it. 

Two-story dog trot log cabin.

I had a vision of a log cabin in the woods, but those people in my life at that time overruled me. That I do regret. I wanted - I still want - a log cabin. Specifically, I want a dog trot styled log cabin, or house, with its central breezeway, but I must be realistic. It's not something I'm likely to acquire at this point in my life. 

It's not that my little house in the woods isn't sufficient. It is. In many ways, it has shaped my lifestyle and I have few complaints about that. I have all that I truly need here. The house is easy to heat, cool and clean. The mechanical systems have been well maintained. My property is secluded and private, which makes it rather safe against some of the things that can happen in the world. If you're not visible, you're not a target. I think my grandparents knew that, which is why their only granddaughter got this particular piece of ground. My male cousins are subject to every manner of annoyances living beside a road. 

Which finally brings me to the unchanging view from my office window. 

My home office is my favorite room in the house. It's me. There was no compromise on wall color, flooring, rug, furniture and its placements, lighting, curtains and artwork. I spin stories in this room, travel via the wonders of the Internet, and I read and learn in this room. I share my innermost thoughts from this room. And yet I gaze out at the lush green of my backyard (so very green for the end of August!) and for the first time question is this all there is to see for the next thirty years? 

They say identifying a problem is the first step in solving the problem. My father and grandparents are gone, and soon so shall be my mother. My retirement income will follow me wherever I live. My husband of over twenty years would welcome a place that is his in ways this property never has been, its history being that of my family. There's nothing to hold me here if I choose to let go of roots and begin a new adventure elsewhere. 

Except, that is, the view through my window. 

KC 
www.kckendricks.com

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Coming soon: Where There's Smoke by KC Kendricks
Part of the Men of Marionville collection

Take me home, country roads

September 24, 2012

Almost heaven, West Virginia

Blue Ridge Mountains, Shenandoah River

Life is old there, older than the trees

Younger than the mountains, blowing like a breeze

This past Saturday was a typical autumn day, for which I’m grateful. I had a wedding to attend in Romney, West Virginia. My youngest cousin married his college sweetheart in a wonderfully simple ceremony. The bride was lovely and the groom ever the handsomest boy in the room. Excuse me - young man. It brought us all together to celebrate new beginnings and strengthen established ties.

If you’ve read more than one of my stories, you’ve likely figured out I love my neighboring state - wonderful, wild, beautiful West Virginia. So taking a two-hour drive through the mountains wasn’t a hardship - even with my mom and stepdad in the back seat.

We - my partner, the parental units, and myself - rolled onto the Interstate and I realized I should have made a John Denver CD to play. Not that the late Mr. Denver is my preferred driving music, but my seventy-something mother doesn’t have the same appreciation of Chad Kroeger’s ass in black leather pants. What she says about his singing isn’t printable, even by me. But I digress… John Denver would have been the perfect accompaniment for the drive.

Country roads, take me home

To the place I belong

West Virginia, Mountain Mama

Take me home, country roads

I remember the first time I heard Take Me Home, County Roads on the radio. Back in 1971, FM was in its infancy and so I heard it on the scratchy AM bands. It was back in the day when only my oldest cousin had a car. It was something every kid on the school bus knew the words to and would all sing along with when it played on the radio. Even the bus driver would join in on that one.  What I couldn’t know at such a young age was how the words of the song captured the beauty and sentiment an era almost passed.

 All my memories, gathered 'round her

Miners' Lady, stranger to blue water

Dark and dusty, painted on the sky

Misty taste of moonshine, teardrop in my eye

My country heritage means a lot to me. I love where I am in my life. In me is the bridge to the past for my young cousins even as I celebrate their view of a future just begun. I’m the keeper of heirlooms and the teller of old stories. I’m the one they look to when they need to know just how they’re related to so-and-so. I know what they will miss out on as this our crazy, modern world absorbs the old ways, and they will do things I can’t even dream of and blaze paths unimagined. These children of my heart will conquer the future while I look forward to some day being “retired” and spending time traveling on the winding country roads with old music blaring out of the speakers.

And that’s just the way it should be.

I hear her voice, in the morning hour she calls me

The radio reminds me of my home far away

And drivin' down the road I get the feeling

That I should have been home yesterday, yesterday…

KC