Ricky Bobby

Ricky Bobby
If you ain't first you're last

Saturday, July 19, 2008

Yesterday

I went outside just before dark last Thursday. The day just seemed to get away from me so fast. There was a lot going on and I was focused on a problem. It suprised me to see how late it was. I hadn't even noticed the rain had been through until I went outside. The thought crossed my mind that we just don't stop sometimes to really look around at the world God has favored us with. Right there in the front yard was this sunset no one besides our Creator could paint.

Then, I started thinking. You know....I remember standing in front of the building my first day of kindergarten sobbing quietly as my Mom drove away. I was like that as a little boy; never would cry out loud. Never wanted anyone to see me cry. The next thing I know, I go to sleep, wake up and I'm wiping at tears as I drive away from the Primary School where I just left a little four year old boy for his first day of kindergarten. Then next time I wake up I'm holding my granddaughter. Life is like that. It's like we're rolling toward the cliff's edge and no way to stop. Dragging hours and blurred years. Where did it all go?

I'll be fifty years old soon. The memories are sharp in my mind. The events of forty years ago stand starkly clear in my mind. What I did this morning is a fog to me but I remember vividly standing in the seat of a 1957 Chevy next to my Dad when I was small enough to stand up in the seat. What's strange is the smell. So many memories evoke such a strong sense of smell. In my mind right now I'm standing out side the house on a winter day holding a football. It's about sundown and I can see my Mom through the kitchen window. The window's are all foggy from the heat inside and I smell fried chicken. Mom cooked every night. She got off work at four 0'clock and by six we had a full meal every day. I really miss my Mom. The feel of her hand on my face will never go away. I can still hear her voice sometimes. No one could ever call my name the way my mother could.

Do you remember running down a dirt road in you bare feet? Have you ever picked blackberries? Have you ever gone skinnydipping in a creek? As fast as it went by, I was truly blessed to have the childhood I did. I can still hear the raccoons under my window at night. They woke me up everynight as they climbed down that oak tree and started walking across the leaves. I would leave the house on Friday afternoon after school and not come home until Sunday morning for church. My cousin and I would camp out all weekend in the woods as 10 -11 year olds. Nobody worried about us...nobody bothered us.

There are a million other snapshots rambling around in my mind. Most are happy or random, ordinary events. But the smells.....the smell of the ocean....my Dad's cheap cologne (always Old spice)....the damp smell in the woods at home after a rain. These things have begun to come to me more often lately. I guess I've just come to realize that most of the ordinary everyday events and scenes are what we remember later on....and wish we could do again. It seems so strange how such an inconspicious moment will become such a clear memory forty years later. Real life and true living are in the everyday. I don't remember much about graduation, but I can see my little sister jumping rope on the front porch as clearly as spring water.

For years now I've made an attempt to see every sunset and sunrise I can possibly see. There have been hundreds and no two have been the same. You know something? Nobody can describe what the moonlight through a coconut palm looks like. You've just got to see it. Nobody can describe the feel of the late night South Florida summer breeze. You've just got feel it on your own skin. Nobody can describe to you the taste of the ocean. You've just gotta taste it. There's a thousand things I wish everyone could know like I know....the smell of Jasmine at sunrise. A million daily small pleasures are there for the taking. Most pass us by with little notice. The days we live are crowded with schedules and meetings. I wish I had worked a little less and experienced God's world a little more. Standing here now looking at fifty years old, it just doesn't seem like there's enough time left to do and see it all. It doesn't matter to me much anymore that I'll never be worth a lot of money. What really matters to me is that I have become the richest man in the world. I know that Christy, Ryan and Nick will look back one day and remember the smells of their childhood. In some odd memory they'll each remember me or Tilena in some clear singular moment. They know the smell of the ocean and they've seen the moon through the coconut fronds. They each know Christ Jesus and they know the love of their Mom and Dad...a rich man can't buy that.

Well troops, enough for today. Too many memories tax an old man's mind. I think I hear my Mama calling me............

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