East of Amarillo, TX. Extending south from Shamrock, is US highway 83. This is a road that I have traveled every year of my life since birth. This highway goes down the spine of my immediate family and is the lifeline of creation and memory for me. Not quite the Palo Duro canyon, but this drive has its share of rolling hills and sharp cliffs. On each side of this drive are a mix of cotton and cattle. The air is alive with the sound and aroma of life and living. No one lives here anymore for me. I say that, as my last living relative still in this area has passed away and, 54 years later, this region will be devoted to memory of days passed and of growth and understanding of my world. I drove alone on this highway and I thought of the closing of a chapter in my life. Kind of sad it was; a tear formed as I drove toward a favorite place on this drive. The highway dips steeply into a canyon and you can see for miles as you plunge into it. On either side are the same landmarks... Large boulders, a Cross on the ridge. An old car that was pushed over the ledge as refuse, still there after 50 years. Sameness of being, and long-lasting signs still there after all had passed on. I felt the moment was ripe for some high cranked music. I plugged in my iPod to the stereo and hit shuffle. I waited as the car plunged into the canyon drive and the first song... The first words were... Welcome back my friends to the show that never ends... Indeed.
Posted on: Sun, 26 Oct 2014 17:45:15 +0000
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