A little over a year ago, we moved into our new condo and out of our home of forty-three years. I took some pictures on my phone of those last and first days. They’ve popped up from Google photos reminding me of what we’ve gained and what we’ve left behind. I have no regrets about the move, just fond memories of what we left. Then I wonder, if I still have the memory, have I left anything at all? Each of our stories is about the people we touch, and who touch us in return. Who we know and those who share our time. The places are simply the backdrop.
One of the pictures that popped up was of a rock. Not just any rock but “the big rock” about a block from our house. I’m sure it was placed in its current location during the 1960s while Lake LeAnn was being developed. Large rocks often find themselves to be a part of a family’s landscape. Some people find them aesthetically pleasing.
It wasn’t on our property, but rather around a bend and down the street. To tell the truth, I never paid much attention to it. It was just there. David, Elizabeth and Michael saw it as a landmark. The first time I recall them talking about it was when my mom and dad came to the house to watch the kids while Ruth and I headed off to a three-day conference.
We made a list of emergency numbers, local friends, provided health insurance cards, and laid out a day-by-day schedule. All of the items were routine to Ruth and me but new territory for my mom and dad. As we were reviewing the daily schedule the subject of school focused on the bus. “What time do they get on and off the bus, and where do they board?”
My dad volunteered to walk to the bus stop with the kids each morning and meet them in the afternoon. We said it wasn’t necessary, but he insisted. “I can use the exercise.” I believe it was Elizabeth who offered up some guidance.
“We get on the bus by the big rock.”
To be totally honest, I didn’t know what big rock she was referencing. She seemed sure of her directions, so I didn’t comment. When we returned from our trip, we received the report that everything went off without a hitch. “Grandpa walked us to the big rock and met us at the end of the day.”
On normal school days I provided most trips to school because I was the kids’ elementary school principal. I drove them to school, but they rode home on the bus. Over the years they walked home from the rock over 5,000 times. First David walked by himself. Two years later Elizabeth joined him, and the following year they walked as a trio. This continued until David started driving to school, followed by Elizabeth two years later. Michael drove solo his final year.
While the big rock wasn’t their meeting place any longer, it did provide a landmark and let the kids know they were almost home. Just up the street and around the bend.