Roadside Principles

Roadside Principles

When I was ten years old, I didn’t tell mom, dad or even the cat. Mom was in the garden picking beans for supper. Dad was on his way in from the south field. The cat? Well, Silk was soaking in the late afternoon rays and didn’t really care about anything other than sleeping in the sun. I squatted down, and stroked her gently. Purring, she stretched gratefully.

It wasn’t anything scary - at least I didn’t think so. I just wanted to go for a walk before supper. I didn’t know that I’d get so absorbed in the countryside. Warm, west wind whipped my hair in my face in strong gusts, bending the grasses in the ditch. Puffs of soft black roadside dirt warmed my bare feet. I heard the car before I saw it. It was mom and dad. Mom hadn’t seen me walk out of the yard. She told me later it was as if I had vanished. But, it was easy to get out of shouting range on the farm. When mom called me for supper, the fourth time with not even a hint of an answer, she got worried. When dad drove in from the field, they both got in the car and started to look for me. A ten year old really can’t get that far, so they found me quickly. 

The wind died down, stilling the grasses. Distant growling tractors ruffled the evening air. Yellow-gold sun was just setting. Mom pulled over the car. Together, me, mom and dad, sat on the side of the road and watched as day settled into evening. There is no principle for such time, except the principle of family.

“You need to make time for your family no matter what happens in your life.”

~ Matthew Quick, The Silver Linings Playbook