A Porch of My Own

A Porch of My Own

Tuesday, September 27, 2016

A Leap of Faith


Picture this. The woman sits reading a book, alone in the quiet solitude of the cabin. She hears a truck drive up and before she can get outside the door swings open. The north wind seems to blow the man inside. He's laughing and rubbing his hands together. This is his favorite time of year. He doesn't come alone. With him comes action, fun, laughter, conversations about the events of the world and the family. With him comes life. Chili simmering on the stove, walks in the woods, fences repaired, winter vegetables planted, deer blinds checked, a campfire lit. In the beginning days before the cabin, the campfire was kept going all day on cold days so they could get warm as they worked outside and he could cook biscuits and pinto beans over the fire. The whine of the chain saw often heard, providing wood for the fire. This woman and their daughter Sarah dragging the oak tops over to be used as fire starters, and helping load the oak logs in the truck.

She gives him a hug and they go outside to unload what he's brought with him. He has hay and feed for the longhorns, some corn for the deer. Grocery bags full of things you can't buy at the small grocery in town; steaks to be grilled with fresh vegetables, maybe some salmon to be smoked or some meat for his famous fajitas. Always, a big bottle of Crown and maybe some wine and Bailey's for the upcoming cold nights. He hopes to get neighboring friends Martha and Scott over for supper and wine one night while he's here.

In a few weeks it will be hunting season. Some weekends he will slip out alone before dawn to sit quietly in his stand, watching the sun creep up over the hills, hoping that muy grande buck will let down his guard and come out of the woods. While he waits he watches the other residents either wake up or head back to their dens after a night of hunting; foxes, birds, an occasional bobcat. And some weekends other hunters will come. His son John and grandson Zac, his sister-in-law Kathy and brother-in-law Derald and their grandsons, and in the early years his best friend John C. Hunting weekends filled with family and friends are a whirlwind of activity. Lots of eating, laughing, storytelling about the ones they got and the ones that got away. He teaches the new hunters how to hunt, how to clean a deer, the ways of wild animals, and the responsibility of being a safe and ethical hunter.

During the holidays before the bunkhouse is built, the kids and grandkids will be spread all over the floor sleeping on air mattresses, the furniture pushed back and sometimes moved to the back porch. One giant slumber party, the last embers in the fireplace dying down as everyone quiets down and goes to sleep. In the mornings before everyone is up, he has the bacon frying and she's making homemade biscuits. They slip out to the front porch with their coffee as the kids all wake up. He's cut a small cedar that they've decorated and put on the porch. Lights have been hung, sometimes on the cabin porch, sometimes on the bunkhouse and pumphouse, and the one last time in the trees over the outside kitchen, help often provided by Zac and Cam.

During the hot days of summer, there are different things going on when he's here. Sometimes he'll get the canoe out and he and the woman will go floating down the Llano River, marveling at the clear blue-green water, stopping to rest and wade in the water every so often. Sometimes he and John and Zac will take the canoe and go fishing as they float down the river. A few years he's managed to get the family and extended family together for tubing trips, going to Cuidad Acuna together, and always cooking his fajitas. Sometimes just he and the woman go tubing. He was an athlete when he was younger, even a lifeguard, and she's not the best swimmer, but she always feels safe with him. 

The garden is overflowing with flowers and vegetables he's planted, his grapes to be made into wine and jelly, his peaches for jam and frozen drinks and cobbler. He's an adventurous gardener, always trying new varieties and new fruit trees. In the late afternoon, as the sun heads toward the horizon in the West, he stands by the fence, a glass of whiskey in his hand, and talks to the longhorns.


He teaches grandsons Zac, Larry Michael, and Jeremy the Texas version of horseshoes known as washer pitching. He takes the youngest grandson Bix for rides in the Mule and teaches him not to be afraid of Woodrow and Gus. It was a good life.

And then one evening it all ended. He died as he lived, going out with his boots on, as they say here in Texas. He wouldn't have wanted it any other way.

And I was left alone. 

I've learned to do a lot of the things he did, in a modified way as my abilities required. I've walked alone the trails we walked together. I've tried to find peace and comfort in being where we spent so many happy years together. I've made all the improvements to the ranch he wanted to do and didn't get the chance. I've hoped to spend my last years here where we shared our life.

But the truth is, the life has gone out of the place with Rick's passing. Yes, I have the memories. But I'll have no new memories and the old ones sometimes threaten to roll over me and crush me. I'm not sure I can survive another 10 or 12 years with only his ghost for company.

So I've made a tough decision. It's not been easy to make and it won't be easy to carry out. I've not made it lightly. I've put a lot of thought into it and I've weighed what I'll lose and what I'll gain. If you know me at all, you know my love for this land I live on. And you know my love for the man that loved it too. In my most logical moments I know that he would not have expected me to stay here after he was gone. I've stayed because I couldn't leave. But I'm now where I don't think I can stay without him. It's also hard because I have always believed the place we love and live defines us. As this place defined Rick, it also defines me.

But when Rick left, all the fun left with him. I can do the work, for now anyway, but as the years go by that will be harder to do. But I can't have the fun without Rick. This remote country life is best when you have a partner. And some of the reason I wanted to stay was to keep the place to hand down. But the truth of that is, this was our dream, mine and Rick's. It was what we wanted and what we chose. And that dream has died. The kids and grandkids will have their own dreams and that's how it should be.

I never thought a year and a half ago I would say this. But I've decided to sell the ranch. I've got a new idea and a plan that's begun to take shape that will lead me to new adventures and experiences. I wanted now to explain why I made this hard decision. I'll write about my plan later as it is more firmed up. It was decided based on the belief that life is precious and we are at fault if we waste it being sorrowful all the time. I have yet a part to play, as we all do, and I need to go see what that is.  

Rick will be where I am going as it's a place he and I often traveled to. Some memories will be there waiting for me when I arrive. I'll take what I can that was his when I leave, his deer and hog mounts, his hats and boots, the mesquite fireplace mantel he created, his tools, and his memories. 

Keep me in your hearts as I try to find my way down this new road. 




"He's one of those who knows that life is just a leap of faith, spread your arms, and hold your breath, and always trust your cape."

The Cape by Guy Clark

10 comments:

  1. Sue, that was a beautiful piece! Think of you often as I know this decision is very difficult for you. You are in my heart!
    Hugs!

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    1. Thank you, Donna. It seemed when I was so busy with all the projects it was easier. And for a long time I just imagined I was just waiting for Rickie to come out from Houston, and that it just wasn't the weekend for that yet. But that soon he would be here. Crazy, I know, but it made it easier. But as time wore on that didn't seem to help. I'm kind of scared about the changes but with support from friends and family, I'll make it. Love you, my friend.

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  2. Thoughtfully written words of love, memories, healing, and a new beginning.

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    1. Thank you, Scott, for your kind words.

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  3. Best wishes on the next chapter of your life! You've been a lot stronger than I know I would be in a similar situation, and I wish you much happiness now, and in the future.

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    1. Thank you, Wendy, for your kindness and good wishes. I am grateful for all the support I get as I move through all this.

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  4. I know how hard these past 22 months have been and how you tried to carry on. I also know how hard this decision is for you, but I applaud you for creating a new chapter for your self and finding a new life and new adventures.

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    1. Thank you, my friend. I will need all my friends and family's support to make it through the move and the new stage of my life. And I am lucky to have that. Love you.

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  5. My heart breaks for your broken heart. Best wishes to you and may you find peace where ever you go. I have half a mind to buy your place so you can go back to it anytime you feel the need.

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    1. Thank you, Judith. I hope whoever buys is will love it like we did and like I know you would.

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