Poems, Prayers, and Promises from a Country Parson

The Wagon's have returned

At the end of summer's heat and long days of sun, the wagons appear in Wilmore. These wooden arks from old have traveled near and far to deposit young souls and minds into the hands of two institutions--The College and The Seminary.
I watch from across the street as folks unload their wagons basket by box by basket at a time. New sheets, new shirts, new shoes, and new notebooks to fill with the memories and experiences of their time here.
Now as the heat and long days of summer sun creeps into the horizon of middle May, the wagons return. This time the pilgrims aren't unloading their wagons, but they are loading them up. The sheets are dirty with the tears of bad grades, hurt feelings, and homesick blues. The shirts are now stained with marks from cafeteria food eaten long ago, but with friends so close. The shoes are worn and dirtied from long walks to class and chapel. The notebooks are full of ink and graphite. They contain the marks of memory.
The pilgrims wonder, "Will this all fit?" There was less stuff when they arrived, but life adds to your treasure and junk.
So I stand and watch. I remember when I unloaded my wagon and begin to think about when I will load my wagon and head back down south. I take a deep breath to calm my nerves and feel the hint of hot air filling my lungs.

posted by Hugh @ 10:34 AM