My people come from central Illinois where you can see 3 or 4 or 5 miles out when you’re watching the sunset. And all you see is corn or beans and tree lines out where you’re watching. Late winter was one of my favorite times to watch the sun set back home. There the fields were plowed under and the dark, rich ground dirt showing row after row after row of what was not yet. And the horizon was from north to south colors of blue going down to grey and gently fading into night.
I live now in the forest of Atlanta, in the town of Decatur, in the village of Oakhurst. Here my people are from all over the country and beyond. Some have grown up here, never leaving. Others have come here to go to school (like me) or for a job or a relationship and have decided to stay. Setting down roots are different in the city. The roots are not so much of place, but of people. And as time passes we all change and many of the roots take hold and grow deeper and deeper. Time is different here than there. Rush hours rob me of the sunsets that used to help me know what time of day and time of year it was. Instead each night as I’m making my way home, I’ll drive miles out of my way (3 or 4 or 5 miles) to not have to wait at an impossible stoplight. Waiting in a line of cars fences me in ~ in ways that fences never could. It’s where I’m from, I guess. Instead of tree lines, there are story lines that hold me in place and bring me my bearings. These winter-coming-into-spring-nights make me miss those Illinois sunsets. Those colors filling the sky. Watching my breath in that cold air. I will always carry that place inside me, never losing sight of the rows and tree lines. What was, what is and what will be ~ places, people, story.
claudia
3/5/2013 09:09:04 am
wowowowow.....looking good! testing here we go!
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Cheryl
3/5/2013 09:43:09 am
As a fellow Illinoisan (sp?), this resonates loud and clear. YET, I have memories here of seeing this big dang moon over trees and houses and think, "Hey, I live in Atlanta, metro=millions, and that big moon or that rising sun in my rear view mirror are sites I don't remember having in IL. There's an appreciation that juxtaposes with our 'city-ness' that I wouldn't trade, especially whe it comes with the wonderful dizziness of the variety and color of people I see on my block and workplace each and every day.
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Karla
3/5/2013 09:55:34 am
This makes my heart happy. So glad you have made your way to this point and are allowing us to share your sweet thoughts and heartfelt words. xoxo
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Kathy
3/5/2013 10:05:18 am
Lovely.
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Rick Marsden
3/5/2013 10:28:38 am
Les, your unique insights into life and human compassion shine throughout your blog, as well as your huge, warm heart!
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Geneva Benoit
3/8/2013 05:57:05 am
These cold days and nights have made all of us for whom frosty air is the breath of home shiver with memory and sweet longing. It's OK to be there till a tear calls you back. We're meant to visit home and the dear ones who were there. And then Delta drops us back on 285. It's OK.
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Lesley BroganWorking in Family Experience at Children's Healthcare of Atlanta, Lesley is an ordained minister in the United Church of Christ. A Candler School of Theology graduate, Lesley has just published her second book, Grief and the Psalms: Companioning the Moon for 29 Days (available on this website). She and her partner, Linda Ellis are raising their two sons, Brogan and Sam in Decatur, GA. Archives
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