An Epiphany April 11, 2009Posted by amberpeace in family, Living, relationships.
Tags: driving, family, memories, relationships
We have left on our own pilgrimage. Behind us is everything we hate – chaos, lies, discord, and alcohol. In front lays everything we love – Jesus and music, but mostly music. We’ve hated each other for the past 15 years out of necessity, but this one week is most sacred to us. Hate is impossible. Even when we argue we are aware that we’re wasting time. Arguing is for back there, in the hills. Excitement and awe are for out here.
This is Mary’s first time away from the mountains. She fell asleep some time back, but has now awoke to corn and soybeans. She can’t comprehend it. There is nothing but flat, and to us this is just as exotic as seeing a lion in the wild. We’re snaking our way across the farmlands and Google Map has told us wrong. We’re passing through small places with names like St. Augustine’s Hamlet.
A sign tells us that we’re in Avon. The only Avon I know provides me with great moisture benefits. As we drive through, Mary and I silently take in what we see. Clean little houses with clean little yards flying their clean little American flags. The sidewalks look swept and the trees look like something Martha’s Vineyard would be proud of. We pass in on one road a primary school, a middle school, and a high school. Mary speaks, “Is this really here?” The whole town takes about seven minutes and as we pass two horses and a camel beside the “Leaving Avon” sign, I have an epiphany. I look at Mary and say, “I’m suppose to be a Midwestern housewife.”