Hindsight

I guess my thoughts must have been hazy but focused if that’s a possibility. It was finally one of those warm early spring days with the winter in retreat . The first of the seasons onslaught of pollen had started to drift through the air. I remember lingering in the gift shop of a Cracker Barrel admiring the newest of brilliantly colored shirts vacillating between the winter markdowns and these appealing temptations.Turquoise, fuschia , powder pink & sky blue . All adorned at the neck with embroidery and rhinestones. Such items heralded in thoughts of the season to come . Warm afternoons strolling barefoot across cool green lawns with a cold beer in my hand , inhaling the scents of rebirth; blooming flowers mixed with the freshness of trees unfurling leaves . In hindsight there was an underlying tension. Tension one senses on the edge of the present like a fierce storm hovering at the horizon of the ocean. A storm one watches out of the corner of their eye hoping that it passes. A storm one hopes is not coming inland to ruin a sun kissed seaside day.

As for myself I enjoy the Cracker Barrel gift shops along with the entire idea of the restaurant itself. Such a wonderful assortment of items running the gamut from those teeth pulling yet delicious Sugar Daddy caramel suckers to opalescent porpoise fountains and of course rhinestone bedazzled shirts. I’m certain those who consider themselves “ intellectual betters” find amusement at such a place . Well let them go to their stale lifeless sandwich shops which promise healthful selections of bland entrees. Who wants to live forever without big fluffy biscuits slathered in butter or chicken and dumplings on a rainy Sunday afternoon. Plus if one feels a tad puffy after such a feast grab a large canary yellow t – shirt emblazoned with flowers from the gift shop to be comfy . Some advice from me to the judges out there is to take your Birkenstock’s along with your variety of black sartorial ensembles and do not darken the doorway to the hearth & home nirvana which is Cracker Barrel. Yet I digress. The storm still hovered.

Warnings were slowly forming in the media as they awaited and inserted talking points from their handlers. A situation which had squeaked about almost unnoticed in the recesses of the internet since the first of January. A situation that caused me to translate the language of threads emanating from a land far away. The many sagas of a sickness which were soon quashed from the people of that lands communications with the outside world; possibly by those considered “ their intellectual betters” and allowed to rule. A horror rapidly unfolding that I, one who enjoys rhinestone & frills along with crispy fried chicken , found to be ominous. Yet as I saw in those early January days , it was was story ignored by the genius netizens who declared the flu much worse & we should move on. We all know such profiles with their special pronouns declared under emojis of waves . Yet if they didn’t know, I did for I always went with my gut.

In any case on this early March evening life was full of hope . My husband and I meandered through the gift shop a bit and then found our table. I’m a people watcher by nature and there’s no better place to pursue such a hobby than a Cracker Barrel located on the main route to the Carolina coast. As usual it was brimming with a variety of patrons . A lovely lady with her elderly father seeming somewhat exasperated by his selections yet encouraging him from a place born of love to order his hearts desire. An act I know had been played out before in reverse when she was a mere sprite of a girl indulged by the man before her at the table. The tan windswept couple possibly enjoying their retirement. Both obviously in from a round of golf still gazing into each each other’s eyes like new lovers. A large family of what appeared to be three generations whom I’d spoken with in the gift shop. They were taking their grandma to spend the summer in Charleston with her sister as grandma had not enjoyed her children’s choice of home in New Jersey. A myriad of lives , different people each and every one , also free people who bow to no one while making their own way with their own choices. Who knew such a storm was growing and to what degree ?

Now here I am this Easter morn nigh on about thirty days out as April showers roll in across the foothills pondering many things and thinking back . Back to each and every one of them. My hope is that the daughter gets many more Easter Sundays with her father , that the storm which once seemed so far offshore does not separate them . I hope the golf playing couple hangs in there for many , many, more rounds on those emerald courses . I wish grandma all the best with her sister on seacoast which is Charleston . While she may miss her far northern kin the sunny days will bring flowers and the hope they will be united soon .

My thoughts are just a small snapshot of life’s interactions . Who among us truly knew that from that day to this the world world would stop ? Who knew the dreams of Springtime would be paused or if such a pause was for evil or good ? But I do know one thing . If it was for good in beginning yet hijacked for evil towards the end. We as Americans have and will continue to be a free people . For those who wish to change that fact I bid you rethink your move.