Tuesday, November 4, 2008
The Touch of Pete's Hand:
On the way home from voting I took a whim and drove through the housing development that now stands where Pete's place once stood. When my sister Phyllis was here last week she made a little map that pointed out something I had once known, that there was a path leading up the very steep slope above Pete's Spring to where his house was. I was wondering today if I could still find a trace of it. I did. Once I was on it I let my feet and legs find the way ~ the path, of course, is the easiest way to make the climb. At the rim of the holler I walked on to the spot where I thought the house (or cabin more likely) had been, scanning the earth carefully to see if I could find anything that Pete might have touched.
The first thing that caught my delighted eye were meadow mushrooms! It's been so dry here, two months of drought, that I was beginning to think that I wouldn't find any this fall, but there they were, peeping up through the grass. Once I'd focused on their white color, and stooped down to pick them, I noticed a tiny white chip in the dirt. When I picked up the little piece of porcelain, the first thing that I thought was that it had a face on it. Under the circumstances it was thrilling. A little more searching revealed a dozen shards, probably of the same dish, another chip that had a blue pattern on it, and a piece of clear glass with concentric ridges. Then a little piece of lead.
So here they are ~ objects touched by Pete's hand. The face may be as close to seeing Pete's face as I ever get, unless I can locate one of his ancestors. I took the little white shard down to the spring and washed it off. Pete, you'll always come back.