A
reloading press caught his attention. Once, long years ago, the old man had
done a good bit of hunting; target shooting had caused him to take up the hobby
of loading centerfire cartridges to save money, and for the sake of accuracy,
and he had added shotshell reloading to his repertoire. But, that had been a
very long time ago; some distant space from his “now” reality.
He
turned a few more pages trying to focus on the grand items offered in the
colored ads but, slowly, as always, he lost interest focusing instead on the
flames behind the glass of the wood stove, hypnotized by the mock fireworks
orange sparks shooting like 4th of July celebration-rockets up the
chimney from the cedar log while purposely lost in the hickory aroma of the
shellbark logs. Ah! Life is good! Perception slipped to introspection.
Tomorrow
promised to be a big day! Son David would bring three year old granddaughter,
Jenny, to visit the old man. They would bring a cake to celebrate the child’s
birthday.
Just
four short years ago, this summer, the boy had come home about ten one evening
to find the old man sitting in his rocking chair on the front porch smoking his
favorite corncob pipe while enjoying a deserved respite of the night time cool.
The
boy leaned against a porch roof support post near his father; he seemed
reflective.
After
a quiet moment, the son spoke to break the tender silence.
“Pap,”
he had begun, “I asked Charlene to marry me.” He paused. Then, “She said
‘Yes!’.”
When
the boy had gone inside a short time later, the old man wiped a “happy” tear
from a craggy cheek as he strolled to the giant silver maple tree surrounded by
a picket fence, near-by.
“Well,
Mamma,” he smiled, “David will marry soon. You’d be so proud.” He swallowed,
hard. Then, “I wish you could be here for this shindig,” he choked, holding
back wet tears.
Jenny
came along the following winter; with her birth, the old man seemed to be
re-born, too.
He
loved this blessing from a time before she took her first breath and that love
grew, daily.
With
a vision of his angel in mind, he smiled, savoring the delectable, delightful
image.
In
the tiny space of a few months, the earth would warm and green, slowly melting
winter’s snow and ice facade; by late April those “secret” culinary delights of
the wild woods would “pop” with gourmet Morel mushrooms rife for the taking, if
one knew when and where to look; mid-May, decorated with myriad rainbow hues of
color-displays, would usher in the spawn of Red ear sunfish along with a
promise of summer as the seasons progressed in their time of space evolution;
their future assured in the giant scheme of Mother Nature’s divine plan.
“Nature’s
timing of her elements,” he mused, laying the magazine on a side table. “She
knows.” Taking a deep breath of the hickory scent and watching the cedar
sparks, he smiled...
(Part 3---Tomorrow's post)
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