...mean more to me than big things. I don't know why. They just do. I've found my greatest pleasures in going through old photos of my kids and grandchildren... and thinking about a particular slice of life, a comical antic, a conversation, that could never be repeated with the same intensity, excitement or joy as the moment it first occurred.
A couple of weeks ago, my hubby and I pulled into our driveway after church and I spotted a huge tumbleweed on the
side of the road in the ditch. All the years I've lived in Oklahoma, it was the first one I'd ever seen. I'd seen bits and pieces of one...but none so big, so intact. I was flat out tickled. I was tempted to bring it in and hang it from the rafters (hubby's disinterest nixed that idea. I visualized a decorative arrangement of sorts, but wasn't about to share my vision. Instead, I explained I wanted to show it to the girls. He didn't seem the least bit impressed as he drove on down the gravel drive towards the house. I wasn't going to whine, I just opened the car door and hobbled on into the house. I poured a cup of coffee and was about to settle down into my recliner when in through the back door came my husband with the tumbleweed in his hand.
Delight filled my heart.
I could hardly wait till the girls got home; I was pretty certain they'd never seen a
bonafide tumbleweed. I couldn't have asked for a better day to set a tumbleweed
in motion. The north wind was blustering gusts at 20 to 30 mph in our
field.
When the girls arrived, I grabbed my camera to take photos of them holding it. I told them they were going to put it on
the ground to watch it.
"What's it gonna do?" Kinsey asked as she grabbed the tumbleweed.
"Wait, wait! I don't have my shoes on," Haylee complained. An early morning rain had saturated
the ground so when the girls walked out on the ground Haylee's shoeless
feet got soaked. They were giddy with excitement until Haylee got
irritated about her wet socks and cold feet. What seemed a great
idea for one, turned a bit sour for the other. I dare say, that's
about how life is on many occasions. Even the greatest event can sometimes be dampened by one thing or another. But, it doesn't have to destroy the experience.
Such was the case when those girls let that tumbleweed loose and watched it blow across the Oklahoma plains. When I took the last photo of the big release, we cheered (or maybe it was just me), then we watched it tumble over and over again into the field. They wondered how far it would go and mused about its final destination. I don't know if they will remember the day we released a tumbleweed, I doubt my husband knows how much it meant to me when he brought it through our
kitchen door. Within seconds the girls were off to play with their dolls, my husband to watch his football game-- our tumbleweed forgotten.
Such excitement rarely lingers more than a few moments in any given experience. For most folks, events are rarely big enough to conjure up memories in days ahead. I suppose this could never compare to the moment they learned to swim, the thrill of bungee jumping, or the first time they drive a car. Still, someday, another tumbleweed may blow into their lives as this one blew into mine. Perhaps they'll want their husband to get it so they can share it with their grandchildren. And maybe, just maybe, they'll discover the little things that meant so much to Grama, were not so little after all. selahV
