Time

Mom, July 1986

Time, the cradle of hope. Wisdom walks before it [and] opportunity with it. He that has made it his friend will have little to fear...but he that has made it his enemy will have little to hope... ~Charles Caleb Colton

Time, the indefinite continuum of events and motion, is the standard by which scientists measure the length of our days. Commonly used to track the movements and progression of our solar system, it is also used to track the movements and progression of our lives.


Me and the girls 1984

William Faulkner once penned, "only when the clock stops does time come to life." How is it that in one moment of time we are nine years old, riding bikes with our friends, free of care or concern, and and in the blink of an eye we find ourselves in our thirties, raising families, no longer riding ten-speeds but riding the wave of responsibility? My recent trip to Indiana has stirred an overwhelming awareness in me, an awareness of time, an awareness of change, an awareness of life and all its winding paths. This leads me to the question, What direction is time leading me?

Time, my forgiving and reliable friend, has an interesting way of granting me perspective, of refining my memory and of instilling appreciation for the things of my youth. As I sit here contemplating the events of recent years, I am reminded of a song from the mid 1990s. Hootie, (prior to becoming a country crooning Darius Rucker), once sang that time was no friend of his because it left him crying in the rain. Although time can sometimes feel like a punishment as it dredges unfavorable memories from the past, to me, time brings an understanding of the fragility of life, the sweetness of experience, and the tender blessing of having a solid foundation and family to call my own.

Last week, I visited my childhood home, nestled between fields of sweet corn and humble suburban residences.


Our home as it appeared in the late 1980s.

I was three years of age when my parents purchased this 1975 two-level, and I was seventeen when I moved away from it. Once a castle fit for a princess, this humble dwelling was the bedrock of blanketed bedroom forts, dining chair school bus routes, front room wrestling matches and poolside BBQs with friends. I have more memories of this home than anyone cares to read, yet this 1800 sq. foot paradise is special to me because my mom was healthy and vibrant when we lived here, my dad was the king of the grill, and my sisters and I were the stars of our own mermaid show, splashing nightly each evening from May through September.


3204 Bryan as it appears today.

Finger-like waves of nostalgia grip my heart as I look upon this place. Now a vacant abode of brick and siding, I wonder if others will be able to create treasured memories here. The trees have grown tall and strong, resilient to the storms and turbulences of nature. Even though I was only a young girl during my time here, I would like to think that I am as resilient as these trees, having been fortified by the richness of a Hoosier family as they have been fortified by the richness of Indiana soil.



My parents installed the pool the summer of 1985. The slide and diving board have been removed, but the old barn remains.



Dad built the decks and enclosed porch. I helped him lay the brick pavers. (Sidenote: It was a common occurrence to listen to the radio while working with my dad in the yard. One day when we were planting flowers, Bobby Brown's "Roni" streamed through a silver 18 inch boombox. A nickname given me in high school, my Spanish teacher, Senora Harris, still calls me Roni to this day.)



When this pool was full of life, a splashing chorus of laughter and friendship erupted with every wave. If I listen closely, the echoes of that time still linger in the air, reawakened by the serenade of every windswept ripple.


July 1986

Mirror, mirror on the wall...
This photo was taken in August 1986, the first day of my sixth grade year. In nothing short of a Pygmalion effect, I resembled a young Eliza Doolittle. Unrefined in all things temporal, I was awkward, gangly and a little bit silly. However, the instruction I received in this home provided the foundation for a life full of wisdom and grace.



During our visit I captured Xavier on this very same porch, his innocence reminiscent of a girl who once wore bangle bracelets and pastel floral prints. It is interesting to me how the beauty of life is always apparent although occasionally we need time to help us discover it.



Angie and I stood in front of our home as we have many times in the past. For a second, time stood still, sweet memories filling my soul like a breath of humid air. And with the swiftness of a camera shutter, a second elapsed and time moved on.