Don't Step on the Flowers

It is amazing to me the things that we gleen from our parents. The way that we look at things, the way that we process things and in general how we feel about the world around us. Let me share the simple following story to demonstrate this.

My mother-in-law has roots in Mullin, TX. We recently were trying to find a unique way to celebrate her 60th birthday. After many suggestions and ideas, someone thought that it would be neat to visit the old homestead there in Mullin, where she was raised as a little girl. The farm itself is gone, but an old hotel was moved from downtown Mullin to the old homestead site. They rent it out for special events and getaways. So with great anticipation, a surprise party was formed and we all planned on a trip to the country.

Upon arriving at the old homestead, we felt like we had gone back in time. The old Duran Hotel was a little two-story building with five simple upstair rooms and a small kitchen in the downstairs and an actual little parlor. It was sitting upon about 200 acres and it was just a beautiful little place out in the country.

The first evening, we all sat out on the second floor balcony and listened to my mother-in-law tell stories of when she was just a little girl. We all sat around and just soaked up the past as if it were a fog that had slowly crept in and enveloped us. It was actually quite nice.

The next morning, after a very hearty old breakfast, we each kind of planned out the things that we wanted to do for the day. Some wanted to relax and not do anything, some wanted to fish, some wanted to go canoing, and others wanted to explore the old homeplace. My mother-in-law wanted to go hiking to explore the places that she used to go when she was a little girl. So needless to say, many of us decided to go with her, including my daughter-in-law and my grandson. I was late getting started on the hike because I was one of the ones who wanted to go fishing. As I began to catch up with the group, I noticed my daughter-in-law and grandson dragging up the rear. There were wildflowers everywhere since after all, it was springtime in the country here in Texas, and my grandson felt like he had to stop and smell every one of them and to pick many of them for his mother. Shortly after catching up with the group, it was decided that some might be too tired to walk all of the way back, so I was nominated to go back and get the truck so that they could all get a ride back to the hotel.

So with that task before me, I decided to hoist my grandson onto my shoulders so that his mother could enjoy the hike with the others and we headed back for the truck. He is almost four, so his vocabulary has literally been exploding lately and he was thrilled will all of his surroundings and he was ready to talk to me about all of it, when all of a sudden, he said in a very dramatic voice "Don't Step on the Flowers". I was caught a little off guard and I repeated his statement to him almost in the form of a question. He again said "don't step on the flowers", but this time he followed with the clarifying statement "my mommy loves flowers".

It was at that moment that I realized the power of a mother and her influence on the generations to come. After all, here we were wandering around in a pasture just so that my 60 year old mother-in-law could relive her childhood for just a few days.

Maybe you will find it silly, but for years to come, I will probably step around the flowers because after all, "mommy loves flowers" and that was important to my grandson.

This Is Where The Road Begins

I have never blogged in my life, actually I have never even really written in my life. Yet here I am beginning a new blog. It doesn't make sense to me and it most likely won't make any sense to you, whoever you are. That I think is the compelling part of it. I really don't care. I won't care when you read my blog if you like it, hate it or are totally indifferent to it. The truth is, I am not writing for you, I am writing it for me.

Maybe it will help if you know a little bit about me. My name is Ghost Writer(the truth is that it really doesn't matter who I am). I am 46 years old at the time that I am beginning this new journey. I have been happily married for 27 years. I have raised two wonderful children. I have a grandson. I have been at the same place of employment for over twenty years. I have spent most of my life doing for others. All of this to say that I have lived a wonderful life, but in so doing, I have lived much of it for others and not myself. Let me be very clear. This Blog is for me. If by reading it, I somehow move you or inspire you, good; if I have no impact on you at all, so be it. Again it is for me and no one else in the world. I have chosen today to finally take something for me and no one else.

With that being said, let me begin. I have named my blog "Where The Road Ends". It is Ironic that my first post is named "Where The Road Begins". I am the kind of person who has always had a curious side to me. I can't tell you how many times I have been driving along and I see a road that branches off of the road that I am on and I wonder to myself "I wonder where that road goes". So when time allows, I wander down that road from time to time and usually continue wandering the different roads that it leads me to until I eventually find my way back to civilization or until the road ends. I never know when I make that first turn where I will end up. When it does bring me back to civilization, there is usually just a touch of disappointment. However when it leads me to a point where the road ends, I almost always feel that sense of question and intrigue as to what is beyond and who has been there before me.

That sets the stage for my approach to the rest of my life. I am not so curious as to where the road begins but more as to where the road ends. Along that journey I will write this blog as much or as little as I see fit. You may stumble upon it and find that this is the only post that I ever made or it may be the point in my life where the road begins.