Dear Family and Friends,
A Mini-Novel in Three Parts
(They tie together, read all three!!)
1. Journey to Houston
2. A wedding celebration
3. Watching the bluebirds fly
Chapter 1
Dusk falls heavy and gray on this Memorial Day in Indiana. The temperature
hovers at nearly 90 degrees and the sound of air conditioners filters
through the deepening twilight.
I wrote a passage last week from Texas but was unable to send from my
Mom's computer, so here it is now.
Chapter 1.
"As nighttime falls and the quiet lush, hush of darkness overwhelms
my parents home, I find myself in my Dad's office in Texas. For those
of you who know landmarks, I am north of Houston in a lovely wooded,
shaded area known as The Woodlands or Montgomery of Walden or Lake Conroe.
Writing in my Dad's space is so like writing on my own desk. I am surrounded
by strands of classical music and his shelves are full of the same literature
that I surround myself back home. Just sitting here writing I can see
The Best Loved Poems of the American people, Robert Burns, The Limerick,
Moris Dictionary of Word and Phrase Origins, The Armada, Roget's College
Thesaurus, Shakespeare, Effective Speaking, and Modern French Culinary
Art.
Am I not my father's daughter?
I love having these four days with my parents. Being raised the oldest
of six children, our house was always a bustle of activity, but being
here alone I do not have to share or get up early or hand anything down
or clean anything up!
Spending time here is a vacation, a retreat, really. The landscape is
lovely and wooded and peppered with flower gardens. We spend hours sitting
out in the middle of it all watching the flurry of activity around the
bird feeders and nesting houses. We spent the better part of today watching
a family of bluebirds. The parents were feeding and gathering most of
the day while young beaks and necks found their way to the opening of
the bluebird box to receive food and instruction. How soon will they
fly? Are they ready to go? I only wish I could see them before I leave
in the morning.
Last night Mom and Dad hosted the yearly block party. We spent the day
gathering tables and chairs and setting up as neighbors continually
dropped by bringing food...and advice. By four in the afternoon the
sun dappled behind the oaks and the bloomin' rose of Texas as folks
congregated on the lawns. The food was as large and as varied as Texas
itself...from margaritas to a strong Texas barbecue sauce and rum pie.
The conversation was enlightening...I love meeting new folks...I love
meeting friends of my parents.
My parents have been married 58 years....they share breakfast and the
paper every morning over a pot of coffee...they work in the garden,
cook, tell stories, and hold hands. It is refreshing and beautiful to
know that love exists and exists well.
I leave tomorrow morning...with stories and newspaper clippings tucked
into my suitcase and my own copy of The Best Loved Poems of the American
People. I leave with a promise to travel back soon.
On this balmy night, deep in the heart of Texas, from my Dad's office,
another Passage.
Lou Ann"
Chapter 2
A day home from Texas when Adam and Tonya came bursting in at 7 a.m.
They had driven all night from Florida for the "wedding week."
Tonya's brother, Rob, and my good friend, Alea, were married this week
end.
When asked what she wanted for a gift, she shyly smiled and asked if
the wedding could be held here in my gardens. I was flattered (of course
the gardens are lovely, especially the end of May!) It was later determined
that her guest list was a little too large for my cottage garden so
it was decided to have the rehearsal dinner here at Twilight on Friday
evening. We transformed the entire garden to a scene from Under the
Tuscan Sun....twinkle lights, roses, lilacs, peonies....Italian opera
music. It was a night Alea and Rob will always remember, and so will
I.
My house was full of guests for the wedding weekend as well...that is
the way I like it. The wedding was beautiful with dancing and the traditional
cake....We all stayed late not wanting the evening to end (I am still
sore today from all of the dancing!) When the bridal bouquet was to
be thrown, there were only a handful of us waiting for the toss...Alea
gave me a wink and it practically fell in my arms! I think it is the
only bouquet I have ever caught...I had a crowd cheering behind me!
It is nice to have a keepsake of the wedding.
The week was a whirlwind of family dinners, telling stories, decorating
Dan undecorating...and washing a load of towels every day.
This morning Adam and Tonya left back to Florida...the remnants from
the wedding week are picked up....all that remains are the stories and
the bouquet on my writing table.
Chapter 3.
I left my parents last Monday morning. We sat out in the gardens for
a final farewell to the bluebird family...just as we were ready to leave...the
small bluebirds took flight. One at a time they perched on the edge
of the nest and flew. They flew with strength as the parents watched
on. We were only feet away and watched in amazement at their passage.
It was a wonderful event to share....we then gathered my suitcase and
traveled to the airport where I, too, took flight back home.
As my own children left today, I thought of those bluebirds...the strength
of their flight, the nervousness of their parents. That is just how
life is. We are raised to take flight, and to take it strongly.
My music this week is Andrea Bocelli, my book is The Shipping News by
Annie Proulx (winner of the Pulitzer prize) and my poetry is The American
Night by Jim Morrison. The poetry book was dropped off yesterday by
a friend, he knew I would love it!
The night is heavy and dark. My house is quiet. In two days I leave
to spend the summer with Philip...so another chapter, more stories as
I trade lives for a couple of months.
So with love and stories, I bid you good night from The House At White
Picket Gardens,
Lou Ann
"I read and walked for miles at night along the beach, writing
bad blank verse and searching endlessly for someone wonderful who would
step out of the darkness and change my life. It never crossed my mind
that that person could be me." Anna Quindlen
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