Pieces of me
We pulled up to the house last night just a few minutes before 5 p.m. It hadn't hit me until I saw the sidewalk and then it was a rush of emotions and memories flooding back and suddenly there I was again.
We see the glow of headlights approaching the corner, then one by one they turn in. We all laugh at how many cars there must be anywhere from 5-7, maybe more. With little Ethan in my arms I head to the door, open it and wait outside for the boys to come in. I see the heard of 6 ft. college boys heading down the street under the glow of street lights and towards the house. They filter in single file, Bless, Tiago, Will, Norm, Chris. Everyone greeting with "hi's" and hugs. Josh stops to ask, "Who's this little guy?" as he gently touches Ethans head and smiles down at him. I introduce the two before finally handing an overwhelmed baby back to mother. Surrounded by a basketball team I suddenly feel much smaller than 5'3 3/4". We gather in a circle and say a prayer, then parade through the food lines. I jump in to make sure I get some food while there's any left. The breakfast area table is filling quickly, so I head back to the dining room table where there is one seat remaining at the head of the table. I take a seat, the only girl. To my left are Cam and Will and to my right are Tex and Josh. I think Bless was at the table too. We begin small talk and chit-chat. The boys tease Tex about his hair cutting experience in Oklahoma. Josh give a quick, quiet grin about the whole incident as he finishes his food. No sooner had they swarmed in than they were headed out the door. Josh gave me a two-arm hug. I just remember the two-arm hug and smiling all the way home.
Seven months later I return to that house for the first time in almost seven months. This time it is daylight. There are only six of us gathered today. The street lights haven't come on yet and the street is empty. I walk down the sidewalk, in the door and to my left is an empty table with one blaring empty chair. This is how things have worked for the past two months. Slowly but surely there are always little things to be faced that remind me of Josh. I'm sure in time it will begin to get easier as I face each place that holds those memories for the second and third times. But today, there are still places, empty places yet to conquer. There are many firsts yet to overcome, but I know I will and I know that every time after that will hurt just a little less.
There are so many places that hold pieces of me. There is a hospital in Murray, KY where I began my life and a house where I started living. There is an old church building where I use to sing that part of has been consumed by fire. There is a new church building where I use to play with toy airplanes at a construction site. There is a log cabin where I spent many afternoons playing and evenings chasing fireflys. There is a football field where I first learned my passion for the game. There is an old basketball arena where I caught t-shirts and ate yellow peanut M&M's. There is a Dairy Queen and a Pockets and a park. In Abilene, there are three houses I have lived in, memories at all, but only one is still home. There is Shotwell stadium where I grew up then was mascot and then a football coach. There is an elementary school where I had field days, a middle school where I played volleyball and basketball and track and flute. There is a high school where I fell in love and out of love and was a teenager. There is a field where I took my first achilles injury and a gym where I broke a pinkie. There is a garden where I had my first kiss and a park where we'd spend summer nights talking about nothing. There is a parking lot where I learned to drive. There is a church where I was nurtured. There are cemetaries where loved ones lay. There are two houses on Lytle lake which hold dear to my heart. There are places I learned about life, about love and about death. There is a baseball stadium where my heart broke and another basketball arena where I performed and graduated. There are pieces of me in 46 states, in St. Kitts and Puerto Rico, Mexico and Canada, England and France. There is a piece of me at the base of the Eiffel Tower and in three Mexican churches. There is a piece of me in an old Victoria house and a highway sign by a Texas gate. There is a piece of me on an island with crystal water and volcanic rocks.
All these places hold pieces of me. All these places I cherish. There are just some that are harder to let go.
We see the glow of headlights approaching the corner, then one by one they turn in. We all laugh at how many cars there must be anywhere from 5-7, maybe more. With little Ethan in my arms I head to the door, open it and wait outside for the boys to come in. I see the heard of 6 ft. college boys heading down the street under the glow of street lights and towards the house. They filter in single file, Bless, Tiago, Will, Norm, Chris. Everyone greeting with "hi's" and hugs. Josh stops to ask, "Who's this little guy?" as he gently touches Ethans head and smiles down at him. I introduce the two before finally handing an overwhelmed baby back to mother. Surrounded by a basketball team I suddenly feel much smaller than 5'3 3/4". We gather in a circle and say a prayer, then parade through the food lines. I jump in to make sure I get some food while there's any left. The breakfast area table is filling quickly, so I head back to the dining room table where there is one seat remaining at the head of the table. I take a seat, the only girl. To my left are Cam and Will and to my right are Tex and Josh. I think Bless was at the table too. We begin small talk and chit-chat. The boys tease Tex about his hair cutting experience in Oklahoma. Josh give a quick, quiet grin about the whole incident as he finishes his food. No sooner had they swarmed in than they were headed out the door. Josh gave me a two-arm hug. I just remember the two-arm hug and smiling all the way home.
Seven months later I return to that house for the first time in almost seven months. This time it is daylight. There are only six of us gathered today. The street lights haven't come on yet and the street is empty. I walk down the sidewalk, in the door and to my left is an empty table with one blaring empty chair. This is how things have worked for the past two months. Slowly but surely there are always little things to be faced that remind me of Josh. I'm sure in time it will begin to get easier as I face each place that holds those memories for the second and third times. But today, there are still places, empty places yet to conquer. There are many firsts yet to overcome, but I know I will and I know that every time after that will hurt just a little less.
There are so many places that hold pieces of me. There is a hospital in Murray, KY where I began my life and a house where I started living. There is an old church building where I use to sing that part of has been consumed by fire. There is a new church building where I use to play with toy airplanes at a construction site. There is a log cabin where I spent many afternoons playing and evenings chasing fireflys. There is a football field where I first learned my passion for the game. There is an old basketball arena where I caught t-shirts and ate yellow peanut M&M's. There is a Dairy Queen and a Pockets and a park. In Abilene, there are three houses I have lived in, memories at all, but only one is still home. There is Shotwell stadium where I grew up then was mascot and then a football coach. There is an elementary school where I had field days, a middle school where I played volleyball and basketball and track and flute. There is a high school where I fell in love and out of love and was a teenager. There is a field where I took my first achilles injury and a gym where I broke a pinkie. There is a garden where I had my first kiss and a park where we'd spend summer nights talking about nothing. There is a parking lot where I learned to drive. There is a church where I was nurtured. There are cemetaries where loved ones lay. There are two houses on Lytle lake which hold dear to my heart. There are places I learned about life, about love and about death. There is a baseball stadium where my heart broke and another basketball arena where I performed and graduated. There are pieces of me in 46 states, in St. Kitts and Puerto Rico, Mexico and Canada, England and France. There is a piece of me at the base of the Eiffel Tower and in three Mexican churches. There is a piece of me in an old Victoria house and a highway sign by a Texas gate. There is a piece of me on an island with crystal water and volcanic rocks.
All these places hold pieces of me. All these places I cherish. There are just some that are harder to let go.
posted by Tori Watson @ 8:54 PM
1 Comments:
At 1:15 PM,
pawatson said…
The places you mention that hold pieces of you are actually the pieces that make up who you are. Each place has been a piece and part of making you into the person you have become. Each place you go and each experience you have leaves a mark on you to mold you into who you are, just as you leave a mark on each place and person you visit. As we sat at the table, I, too, thought of Josh. There are going to be some really strong memories yet to face, as a new session of school begins and a new basketball season begins. Even though you will no longer be a student at ACU, I am sure you will be attending some of the games, and walking into Moody for that first game will bring lots of memories - and hurts. We will be walking with you through those tough times. I love you. Mom.
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