Sunday, September 12, 2010

Forks In The Road

I spent hours on the back porch with my grandmother – sipping iced tea, sweet and cold – listening to the stories of the child I had once been and the adventures I had embarked upon. I heard of the fearlessness of a young girl full of determination and courage, tales accompanied by the backdrop of cricket song and cicadas humming in the summer evenings. I saw myself through the eyes of another – eyes wiser and richer than my own with memories and perspectives lost to me. Hours were spent poring over photographs in the school yearbooks, revisiting the years filled with teen angst and insecurity … remembering the dreams, the hopes, the possibilities and the magical sense of invincibility. Each story, each photograph, each memory brought not only recollection, but unexplored avenues – each full of opportunities to spread my wings and fly. I began to see not only the woman I was at my very core, but also the woman who could have been had any other forks in the road been chosen; I began to see the woman who could yet be.

5 comments:

Mulled Vine said...

Beautiful choices of words.

Bukowski's Basement said...

... love the introspection here...

Loree said...

Beautiful. I felt I was on that porch with you.

Michael Solender said...

very lyrical Tess, love the Jazz scat by Ella too..

Elaine Spitz said...

Tess, this is so lovely - because you paint a beautiful, warm, picture with your words and particularly because your grandmother took the time to make you feel so special.