Honeysuckle

Until I was seven years old, Miska and I both lived in Middle Tennessee, with only 75 miles separating us. Our worlds never intersected, but we watched fireflies under the same summer sky. I’ve often wondered what it would have been like if we had met then. On Saturdays, my dad would often take his motorcycle out on the serpentine country roads. On a few occasions, dad loaded me on the seat behind him, and we’d roll through the hills. We always stuck to the backroads, and I wonder if it’s possible we might have rumbled past Tolleson Road. Is it possible I caught a glimpse of Miska running barefoot through the grass or lying under the big elm with her best friends, her dogs? Could I have happened by just as Miska rode the tractor with her pappy or right when she made one of her courageous jumps out their barn’s hayloft?

I don’t know, but I’ll thank God every day that fifteen years later, I found my way back to her. Strange that we’d meet in Florida of all places.

I was thinking of all this, our shared geography and the way of fate, this morning. As kids, we both remember loving the first scent of our Tennessee honeysuckle, and in our backyard now, the Virginia honeysuckle has made its first appearance. It’s a marvelous scent of life and lush bounty. And it’s a reminder of where we’ve been and the grace that has carried us to this place. Life is a wonder.

 

4 responses to Honeysuckle

  1. I love this, Winn. You took me to your childhood and filled my mind and heart with sweetness and beautiful feelings. I am a romanticist at heart. This touched me and stirred my feelings of first love. This brought a few pains of lonliness as I have recently lost my “love.” Beautiful thoughts you shared, and I will meditate and reap joy from them today. Thank you! Glad you have found your love! God is good. May he continue to bless you to share words that lift and encourage us.

  2. Beachluvn Annie April 28, 2015 at 4:52 pm

    I will forever remember the smell of North Carolina honeysuckle and drinking the nectar out of each little bloom, I can see myself now in the neighbors back yard up against their vine, about 10 years old, in the summer of 1964. Thanks for the sweet memory and picture in my mind’s eye.

  3. That is such a sweet story. It rang a bell for me, because my husband (of 49 years now) and I both spent many Christmases in the same small city, visiting our respective grandparents. We didn’t actually meet until we were in college.

  4. A very nice story Winn, how blessed you were to have loving Christian parents to raise you. God led you to Miska as sure as I’m writing this note and He will continue to lead you both the rest of the way. Thanks for the sharing of your lives.
    Elaine

words have a way of making friends. drop a few here.