An errand yesterday evening sent me back a good twenty years as I drove through the fields and forests of Timberlake where I was raised. Driving with the convertible top down and U2's Joshua Tree pulsing the rhythm and beat, I played with a smile and let it win. It felt good to visit the homeland. It's interesting how returning to a place at different points in life help ease the journey onward to someplace new. Sometimes I think we avoid places or people, afraid that we'll end up back at the beginning. As if the world just stopped and you're still back there and, like singer laments, she's running to stand still. But I've come down my Carolina road too far and the choices and experiences that I've made have fashioned a confidence that childhood monsters can't terrify anymore. I'm not running, I'm just living and loving the journey. That knowledge tucked in my pocket lent a nostalgic sweetness in the fading summer light and I let the memories roam. With the song of the crickets and katydids rising from the tobacco fields, I sang along an ode to my Helena-Moriah. The buck and doe held attendance in the growing shadows as I passed by on an old country lane and I thanked God for making a home for me in His presence. In an odd continuity and discontinuity, I'm coming home and I'm passing on. For now, I'm moving my hat to a new sunrise, a new time and song. I'm reminded to keep alive the brightest memories of Helena-Moriah Rd. And as I passed the lone old oak tree in the middle of the field, I went on singing With or Without you but not meaning a word of it. Praise God.
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