You, who are on the road...

I have a file on my computer labeled "Artful images;" it's where I place the photographs which are not easily classifiable or always even identifiable, and shots that seem to have artistic merit apart from any representational qualities they may exhibit.

I was browsing in that file this morning, and for some reason this one spoke to me. It's actually a car bumper, just stretched out a bit using Photoshop. And I think I like it because it feels like my life at the moment: it starts out all purple and peaceful, and then seems to accelerate and disappear around a corner, past which I have no control or knowledge or what will happen.

With one daughter in the air, on her way home after 9 months in Taiwan, and the other on the road with a friend, leaving Vermont and driving cross country, I can feel what has been a relatively peaceful settled time -- despite the construction and the washing machine problems -- beginning to shift, and I have no idea what waits around the corner, as both girls' lives will remain a bit up in the air after they return.

But there's no point in worrying about it -- what will be will be; best to settle into the moment, grasp lightly at the constants I do have, and prepare for the rush ahead.

This morning in church we were hearing lessons about what to teach our children, and Bill said "Teach your children well," and then we all (all of us boomers today) grinned, and the Crosby Stills Nash and Young song was palpably present in the room. And now, as I typed that last line, I could still hear it playing:

You who are on the road
Must have a code that you can live by
And so become yourself
Because the past is just a good bye.
Teach your children well,
Their father's help will slowly go by,
And feed them on your dreams
The one they pick's the one you'll know by.
Don't you ever ask them why, if they told you, you would cry,
So just look at them and sigh and know they love you.

And you, you of tender years,
Can't know the fears that your elders grew by,
So please help them with your youth,
They seek the truth before they can die.
Teach your parents well,
Their children's help will slowly go by,
And feed them on your dreams
The one they pick's the one you'll know by.
Don't you ever ask them why, if they told you, you would cry,
So just look at them and sigh and know they love you.


Have a safe trip, hold on tight to those dreams, and be patient with the changes that lie ahead; it's all good.