A Generation of Dark Eyebrows

You had brown eyes and dark hair and some days dark circles under your eyes.  In pictures of your mother Callie, you resembled her so much. 

 You had a tough side but  I knew there was a soft side to you to.   I believe this was so because of your mother.  My grandmother.  I never got the chance to hear what she was like, to meet her through your eyes and explanations.  For someone to have made such an impact on your life you never spoke one word about her.  I wanted to know her.  You kept her to yourself because I believe your hurt was so huge and that’s why she was never spoken of.    I would have loved it if you would have brought her to life through your memories of what she did for you and your sisters.  But I won’t drone on like I could.  You never did open up about a number of things.  I know you were more of a tinkerer, a storey teller of sorts and a worker.  Anything personal didn’t find it’s way to the surface of your lips.  You were true to yourself and probably lived your life remembering in your own way and thoughts. 

I will continue to sort through pictures and compare eyes and hair color with family members and speak what I know.  With dark eyebrows and a high forehead I am bustersdaughter and in a distant memory Callies granddaughter.

Gravy

From a kneecap point of view the visions of peeled potatoes, loaves of bread being torn apart for mounds of dressing and a huge ugly turkey baking was pure heaven in the mind of bustersdaughter.   The Macy’s Thanksgiving day parade always was on the television and the air was filled with the smell and feel of a holiday. 

I still live with the aroma in the air and the phantom taste in my mouth of the festive trimmings and yearn for the past, but would be very satisfied if all I had was my family around a table and the taste of gravy.   

  I ask myself what is gravy, isn’t it like the icing on the cake.  The ending after the beginning.  The ala on the mode of your favorite pie.   I like to think life is alot like gravy, it is the finishing touch an ending or the beginning of the special and the care and desire for him  to please his family.

 Love and simplicity comes in many forms.

This time it came in the simpleness of a gravy boat.

Happy Thanksgiving

and

Pass

the

gravy.

***Bustersdaughter***

 

Hill, Dale, and Catfish

Eagle Creek was the setting, which meant trapsing over a fence through a cow pasture, with cows across a field through a little woodsy area and down a slight hill to the creek.  At this time it was a nice flow of water and a perfect setting to fish.   With cane poles, rods, tackle box, some sandwiches, we were set to make an afternoon of it.  

My heart conjures up a man that worked so hard for his family, that took the time to enjoy the little pleasures in life to share with us something that made him happy as well.   He would take the time to set each one of us up with a cane pole, and we learned how to put the bobber on as well.    Quite a bit of time past before he even had his own pole set up before one of us got our hook stuck on something or we actually caught a fish, more than likely a sunfish, and not big enough to be taken away from its own mother.

I vaguely remember him running back and forth to see if he caught anything while taking care of us.  I know there were some frustrating moments for him and I can’t imagine there not being any considering the circumstances.  At the end of the day the the stringer that held a variety of fish were proof positive it was a successful jaunt across hill and dale to a little creek that made a nice memory and alot of work for a hard working man.    

 The work wasn’t quite over yet, still alot to be done but what a memory and an impression it was going to make in the life of bustersdaughter.