I was relieved when we finally reached the top of the hill.
My short little legs were having a hard time keeping up with Daddy as we walked through the woods near the spot we called Turkey Hollow. He slowed down a little so I could catch up.
“I want to show you something, and you need to remember where it is,” he said. “You might want to bring your kids here one day.”
As we continued I burned the directions into my memory from the spot where we were standing.
Walk to the fence. Take a right down the hill. Cross two big gullies...
Soon we came upon a giant beech tree. Even from a distance I could see writing on the bark. Daddy showed me where he carved my name in 1978 and added my brother Eric’s name in 1982. I was two years old when he carved my name, and my brother was three when his name was added.
Daddy was clearly proud of this spot, and he stressed that he wanted me to remember it.
“How long will they last,” I asked, following the lines of the letters on the tree with my fingers.
He showed me the initials “E.G.” that were carved into the other side of the tree along with the year 1932.
Over 30 years later I found myself slowing down a little so my son James and daughter Elsie could catch up as we climbed the hill at Turkey Hollow. We were out on the family land that afternoon so I could fix my tractor, and after I finished they wanted to explore.
“Let’s go to the hill where your Daddy is,” James said.
My father died before my children were born, but I guess I still talk about him so much that my children speak of him as if he’s still around.
In a sense, he is.
We drove out to the place today in Daddy’s old four wheel drive truck. His rifle was still in reach in case we encountered snakes or coyotes on our adventures.
There are memories everywhere I look when I’m on our family land. From hunting trips and exploring creeks in search of petrified wood and arrowheads to searches for lost calves, I smile at the memories.
The kids always seem to enjoy hearing the stories, and they are eager to experience some of the same things.
So we walk to the hill that became my father’s final resting place – a tall ridge overlooking the place he loved the most. I show James and Elsie the long cedar logs Daddy drug up the hill many years ago. I start to tell them the story of how we attempted to build a log cabin years ago and found out that it was harder than it looks, but they already know it.
After a brief visit to the spot where we planted a tree in Daddy’s memory, we walk on. Elsie leaves behind a single wildflower she picked up along the way.
Suddenly we come upon a spot that I instantly recognize, even after all these years.
“I want to show y’all something, and you need to remember where it is. You might want to bring you kids here one day.”
The terrain was a little rougher than I remember, but the old beech tree was right where I knew it would be. I came across it while hunting back in 2009, and I carved James’ name on the tree. He was two at the time just like I was when Daddy carved my name.
This weekend we added Elsie and my baby son Jason Jr.’s names to the tree. James and Elsie were amazed that my name was still on the tree from so long ago.
For the second time in my life I stood in front of this enormous tree and committed the scene to my memory. This time it wasn’t the location I was determined to remember but the way it felt standing in front of the tree with my children admiring our work after we were done.
I’ve reached an age where I spend some time taking stock of what’s really important in life. Making good memories with the people I love is right up there at the top of the list. Like the letters we carved into that tree, these memories are etched into our hearts.
For a moment I think about trying to explain this to my children, but I can tell by the way they’re smiling at me that they already instinctively understand. We decide to take a different path back down the hill, taking a course they’ve never traveled before. They consider it an adventure.
“Daddy, can we walk in the creek when get back down the hill,” Elsie asks with James nodding his approval.
“Of course we can, baby girl. Of course we can.”
