A Bluebird Day*

It was a bluebird day in the Heart of Dixie.

Not a cloud in the sky, and although the June heat arrived in May this year, today was pleasant.  A cold-front passed last night, and there was at least a whisper of a breeze all day long.  It was the kind of day when you can’t help but be glad to be alive, when you get outside and forget about whatever worries and troubles you might be harboring in the depths of your heart.

All across my little corner of Alabama, people moved about.  Lawn mowers run and gardens tended.  Pickups left early with boats in tow, headed to the lake, and returned hours later, occupants sun-blistered and happy.  A seemingly continuous rumble of Harleys on the highway past my house, sometimes solo but more often in twos and threes.

I stayed around the home place, content to do a little gardening.  I took a nap. Bluebird days are good for that sort of thing, too.

Come away with me.  What you doing hanging ’round here boy?

Yes sir, a bluebird day, good for the soul.  A rare moment of calm — contentment even.

Contentment comes easier for some than others.  I remember a time long ago, when I was 18 or 19 years old.  Home from college, helping my dad on one of his endless outdoor projects.  Babbling on and on about future plans as we worked in the summer sun.  How I was going to do this or that, or if I could just do this, then that would likely follow.

And I remember my dad stopping, wiping his brow with the back of his hand, looking at me dead-square in the eyes.

“Son, ain’t you ever satisfied?”

No dad, I wasn’t.  Still ain’t 30 years later.  It’s not in my nature.  I suspect I got it from you, and you probably got it from your daddy.

An hour or so before sunset, my house began to fill up.  My sweet Honduran daughter Nolvia arrived with her fine son, little Ethan, who toddled around my front yard chasing a big purple ball.  Next my oldest son John and his beautiful bride-to-be Molly, fresh from house-hunting.  Finally my youngest, Kyle, and his gorgeous girlfriend Haley, whose green eyes always sparkle like diamonds.

The Redhead prepared a delicious dinner.  We all gathered around the table and enjoyed the time together.  Laughter and love — good times and memories.

Later as the sun set a full moon rose. Hayley and I chased lightning bugs in the gathering dusk.  We caught a whole jar full.

Life is short, boy.  You getting old.  Better get moving before it’s too late.  It might already be too late.

They are all gone now, and soon the house will be quiet again.  Time moves on.

It was a bluebird day in Alabama.

Tonight is a whippoorwill night.

*Originally published in 2012.  We’re all older now, marriages and babies added.  I’m still me.  Guess that will never change.

4 thoughts on “A Bluebird Day*

  1. What changes can take place in 6 years. Short years weren’t they. Yet so much change in a short span of time. Marriages, babies, moves and even deaths. Life events as they are called.

    I heard a whippoorwill for the first time in the past 5 years. A beautiful call and it could be heard all across the pasture from wherein the nature preserve it most likely was. In those 5 years I’ve moved 3 times and built a new house with my husband. Never satisfied on this end either. But it’s a Bluebird kind of life when I look back on those 5 years.

    Thanks Ray, for this great reflective Read.

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