What I Want Now

Sometimes it’s hard to get away from your own head.  My significant other or FDR as he would rather be called, gave me a gift this 4th of July. We went for a drive down Old Route 66.  For me, there is nothing like a drive on an unknown highway. I can stare out the window at the fields and  homes and let my mind wander. Missouri is a haven for old rock homes, general stores and empty gas stations, many of which were abandoned long ago. I’ve always had a secret desire to fix them up to their original charming selves. Create my own little Mayberry where the corner store bustled with activity and life seemed easy.

I wonder if people are as hungry as I am for that same type of simplicity.  I know that nothing was as good or as simple as I remember. There are always hard times for every person no matter the year but it feels really hard now.  

I grew up without monetary means.  My oldest memory is leaving the home of my parents friend who had been kind enough to give us a place to stay for a time and moving into an 8 X 30 trailer parked on the land behind my grandparents farm.  I was three years old. I had family and haystacks, tractors and a dinner bell. My grandparents lived in the downstairs part of the home my Grandpa had built. The upstairs wasn’t finished yet. We bathed in a tin tub and pumped water from the well outside.  Grandma had a coal stove to cook on and the dining table was pushed up against my Uncle’s bedroom door because there wasn’t that much room in this small space but it was a happy place. 

I wonder, what do I want now?

As parents we worry that we aren’t giving our children enough.  We work to pay for all kinds of things so that they don’t have it as hard as we did but are we doing them a favor?  Children want our time and our love. They take their cues from us. They feel deprived when we feel deprived. They read our face like a well worn book and many times their anxiety is their perception of us.  

I didn’t know that we were poor growing up mostly because everybody in the valley was in the same boat but I became acutely aware of status when I moved away from home.  As I’ve strived for some sort of success over the years I find myself traveling down the old roads looking for that simple part of my life when “things” didn’t matter quite so much and happiness came in the form of a well worn pair of skates.

As we continue down a particularly interesting part of the road an old gas station appears. FDR stops the car so I can snap a couple of pictures of the old corner store and I smile as I find the perfect shot. As I jump back in the car and reach across to give his hand a squeeze, I realize that my life is simple and good now.

“Thank you for today.” I say as we head back towards home.

This is what I want now.