> > BY THE YARD > > "It's just dirt!" he said. > I knew he didn't understand. I really didn't expect him to, for it's > the way I see things in life. > There are so many ways to measure success in life. While one sees the > bottom line in their check book, the car they drive, the house and > community they live in, another would measure their success by the number > of friends they have and the amount of love they feel. > But how does one measure a life? > Your first reply might be in years, months, and days. The calendar > seems to be the standard for many. At 16 you can drive, 18 is legal, 21 > says you can drink, "Thirty Something" scares us, 40 plus is "over the > Hill," 50 is a half century and so forth. > But I have discovered a new measurement -- "By the yard." > We've been in this tiny house now for nearly a dozen years. We bought > it because it was the right fit. It fit into our budget and our family fit > into it. The kids had their own room for when they stayed with us on > weekends. We had space to keep my office, and in every little corner there > was a place to put a dog. > Yes, we were cramped but we never really noticed. You see, although > we could have used another bedroom, certainly another bath and ultimately a > room just for my office, we never felt crowded. Any feeling of closeness > was accepted as a measurement of love we had for each other. > But time, fate and circumstance gathered together, held a meeting and > little by little began to dismantle our home. > At first, it was my oldest son Keith. He just grew up and headed out > into his own life. The expectations of family now fell onto the shoulders > of my youngest son, Evan. He was fine for a while, but I could begin to > see him withdraw from the silly everyday antics of the games we always > played, the places we went on weekends and the time we spent together. One > day he simply announced, he didn't want to come out. I was crushed. It > took me some time before I realized that he had grown up, too. His weekend > time became work time, friends time and, oh yes, a few long hours of > conversations with girlfriends. > We became the victims of growing up. > This new reality came rushing in on me one Saturday morning a few > winter's back. I woke up to the sounds of children and adults laughing. I > looked out my window and saw the new neighbors from on top of the hill > sledding with their young children. They were playing on my hill, in my > snow, the sacred spot where just a few years before, my wife and I did the > same thing with our boys. But the times were different. Now there was > just the three of us and my dog hated to ride on a sled. > The next spring our sledding equipment was sold in a yard sale. > As months followed, our backyard became more of a chore to maintain > then a place to play. As our dog Daisy grew older she began to find her > favorite places to "sniff" closer to the back door. Our small garden near > the top of our property became less and less important to Marianne as she > began to struggle with physical limitations in her life and this past > summer I tried to maintain it but failed to produce anything worth eating. > "It's a heart ache for me now," I said to my friend. > "How can a yard be a heart ache? It's just dirt!" he said. I knew he > didn't understand. > Suddenly this old house seems much too small and the yard way too big. > We want to move. We need more house and less yard. But there is just the > two of us now. Our dog Daisy's passing closed the final chapter on this > castle filled with love. Today, I need to go out and rake up all the > leaves from the yard. I really hate to do it. You see it's the only thing > left in it. > So I stood on my small deck this morning and looking out I saw a > million moments, a thousand laughs, baseball, fireworks, picnics, parties, > the spot where I fell on my knees thanking God for my first book and saving > my son's life, super bubbles nearly running the length of the yard, squirt > gun fights, a thousand flowers, sledding and a four legged best friend > jumping and barking as we slid down the hill in fresh fallen snow. > Yes, I found a new way to measure my life -- "By the yard!" > > -- Bob Perks < .·:*´¨`*:·..·:*´¨`*:·. *: * Missi * :* *·. .·* `*·-:¦:-*´ ³´`*:»§«:*´`³