Cowboy Curtains

                                                

I could feel tears in my eyes before I opened them this morning, so I kept them closed...

It was an early morning in December, my favorite season- so I wondered why I woke up teary eyed-

Although, I did recognize a warm feeling...It had a conflicting ring to it, one you never forget; because you feel great, yet confused about how to identify your emotions.

I wanted to keep my eyes closed and think of the cowboy curtains on my grandmothers drapes, the smell of honeysuckle vines in her yard, her dusty back porch, the clothesline, and the talkative morning birds.



I remember waking up at my grandmothers house long ago...It was a time when I awoke to the smell of bacon frying, homemade grape jam on toast, and loud birds chirping outside the window; I was curious about their conversation as they picked their way through the morning dew...

I imagined what they were gossiping about...but, they chirped so fast, that even if I could understand their language, their conversation would be impossible to follow.

I laughed to myself, thinking about how children think, and was careful not to open my eyes as my mind wandered back into yesterday. I remembered my grandmother laughing at my son's Golden Retriever, Wendy, as she raced squirrels from limb to limb on her old Oak tree, encircling the tree's trunk, and jumping toward the sky hoping a squirrel would lose their balance and fall. I started to laugh again, but suppressed it...


Because, I still wasn't ready to open my eyes...

I wished I was a child again and squeezed my eyes together tight, that way I could stay in the moment a while longer, although I knew I had to open them sometime.

As a matter of fact, I knew that "sometime" was around the corner, because I had to wipe the tears that were slid down my cheeks, before they drew lines on my face- Why was I crying?- It was a surprise I decided to brush off and rationalize as tired, confused, lost, or "just one of those days."


I lay in bed feeling as if I were awaiting an unwelcome visitor- Nevertheless, I told myself I was strong and thought of good things until I felt better.

After all, it was an early morning in December, my favorite season-
So I shrugged off the feeling and decided to focus on secure moments and new beginnings before I opened my eyes.

I have always projected myself into the future during the fall season and on Sundays-

For example, on Sunday I think of Monday, and during the spring months, I remember long hot summers.

Only, on this day of winter, I didn't think of the summer, instead my mind raced back to the cowboy curtains slightly swinging in my uncle’s boyhood room at my grandmother’s house. I could still smell the fresh fragrance of linen clinging to the clothesline on a breezy spring afternoon.

It felt good to think about the smells and sounds rich in my Southern environment- and the lasting impression my grandmothers five hundred year old Oak left upon the recesses of my soul.

The agricultural climate in the south blends into your senses and becomes a part of who you are, and what you will remember for a lifetime.


Sometimes, I draw upon my heritage for comfort when I’m having trouble with life's harsh realities.- I’m grateful I can still smell honeysuckle vines and hear crickets' sing at night.-

The sound of crickets are entrenched in my mind, chirping in a rhythm I miss when I'm away...

I remember crickets singing when I opened the window in my uncle’s room before going to sleep at night- and watching the moonlight shine on the cowboys shadows as the drapes floated on the breeze away from the window.

It seemed as if the moonlight showed up to shine light on the story of these cowboys and their horses. The cowboy drawings looked alive as the wind wiggled the drapes back and forth in the moonlight- it was like watching a private rodeo-

A glimpse inside the life of horses and cowboys who share the heart and spirit necessary to win any race, cross any countryside, and rope any calf, that gives me courage- these imaginary cowboy's horses kicked dirt toward the sky until the end of every day- and so will I...

I will let my minds eye watch horse and rider gallop to the rhythms of life inside the breezy drapes of long ago.

Because, after all, I recognize this feeling...I've felt it before- this is not my first wagon ride, remember?

I will worry with the details tomorrow...I haven't the time today- time is too precious...

Cowboy curtains, honeysuckle vines, my grandparents, my golden retriever...a long cool drink of water... tall clover...and you-

This is what I will dream about until I open my eyes and begin a new day-