I pulled down to the cabin tonight after dropping my kids back off with their Mom and dark hasn’t shadowed Tula yet. The driveway is slippery and muddy, so I stay to the side on the grass not causing ruts. My music is good, and I look down the hill and below the cabin to the pond; my everyday view. Fog is thick from the rain and cool front that has come in, and I start to think that I can probably get a good picture off the dock. I ease my way down in front of the cabin, put my truck in park and let Rilee’s dog, Lady, out of the house. I can always see a picture in my mind, but then another picture tells something else.
I make my way around the cabin to the back side and start shooting pictures of the fog and pond. I look up and see that the dock is full of a mess from tangled rods and reels to cane poles, a pot of empty spaghetti I cooked Monday night, Rilee’s bird house that hung on the porch she painted, which held some baby birds that had flew away two weeks ago, a crooked fishing net, a bucket to place some fish caught, and a tackle box opened full of water. There was a box of floating worms too.
At first, I start to fuss under my breath about the mess they had made and put my phone away to see if I could untangle some poles, but then I realize of the fun my kids had with their cousins…How in the hell did they get these lines all crossed up? Were they feeding the damn fish spaghetti? Rilee, your birds have been gone and ain’t coming back, darling. Guess I gotta buy some more worms. How’d they bend the damn net? Why did they leave tadpoles in the bucket? Did they catch any fish? I smile and then take another picture.
I held my kids closer to me this weekend then I selfishly do. I did more physically than I did mentally which is often. We played ball, we fished, we worked, we laughed, played board games, swam, cooked out, talked, laughed, hugged, and I broke up a couple of fights. I did this because of all the bad news that started Friday. I did this cause I love them. I did this cause you never know…
My brother called me Friday to tell me we had a friend that got called to come see his Dad in West Virginia. He’d been up there in the fall hunting and not too long ago another trip to see him cause he had been told what the tumors were doing to his body. He drove hours to see him in a rush. He visited with him for about an hour and then his Dad looked at him and said, “I’m glad you could make it, son.”
Then my friend’s Dad closed his eyes… I asked my friend if this was true on the telephone tonight. My voice was shaking. His was too. He told me that it was and I heard him sad. I’ve never heard him this way. He’s big and strong and tough. He was someone’s son. That someone is gone. He told me it was good to see his Dad.
Then Saturday came news of a young kid lost and then Sunday of a Mom gone here in our community. I didn’t and don’t wanna believe it. My mind couldn’t make sense to any of it. Such young souls; such beautiful things they had. Gone.
Stories like these that I see or hear shouldn’t make me be closer or love harder to the things I need and want. We just have to make every day count. It makes me think that getting tangled up with life and work and with your every day to be alright like the rods and poles on the dock. Birds are gonna leave their house, and dip nets are gonna be bent. Tackle boxes will get wet, and fish will eat spaghetti too. Tadpoles grow into these big loud frogs and worms can be dug up from the ground if you go dig them up. And the fog at Tula will be back.
I started slowing down today with my smoke… I left the dock tangled up too.
Shane Brown is a HottyToddy.com contributor and the son of noted author Larry Brown. Shane is an Oxford native with Yocona and Tula roots. Shane is a graduate of Mississippi State University. He has two children — Maddux and Rilee — and makes his home at “A Place Called Tula.” He can be reached at msushanebrown@yahoo.com.
Follow HottyToddy.com on Instagram, Twitter and Snapchat @hottytoddynews. Like its Facebook page: If You Love Oxford and Ole Miss…
Recent Comments