Sweet summer memories...


Back in 2008. after my father died, my mother requested that we move back to Virginia to be near her. My now-estranged sister had also been asked but, despite her having no children and being self-employed in a job that could be done from anywhere, she declined, saying that moving from Los Angeles to Virginia would make her crazy. So, the job fell to us. I let Chris make the decision. He was excited about living in another country and so we made plans. I was fearful, and later proved right, that after a certain amount of time, one cannot, as they say, go home again, but we did it. We went through months of bureaucratic red tape and finally were given the elusive green card the day before we were due to fly out. We spent 23 months in the States before we came back to Scotland. The time we were there had its ups and downs, but there are two memories that stand out and warm my heart, especially now after Chris' death.

Our first home was a town house in Fishersville. This location had two advantages - it was halfway between Waynesboro, where my mother lived, and Staunton, which I considered my true home town and where I hoped to secure employment. (We were in Virginia from December 2008 to November 2010 - the economy was struggling and employment was scarce, but that's another story...). The second and best reason for living there was that our town house backed onto the back of one of my dearest and most loved friends. So, we moved there in early 2009. It was that summer that brought me these cherished memories.

It was early summer and one evening I suggested I accompany Chris on his evening walk (I could handle short distances then). I knew what we would encounter and knew that Chris was unfamiliar with what he would experience. Not far from our town house was an area that had some fairly dense shrubs and plants. I knew we would come across what I was looking for there. The sun was setting and it was just beginning to get dark. I spotted what I was looking for. I turned to Chris and directed his sight to what I was seeing. The look on his face was priceless - like a child seeing Santa for the first time. And his smile was one of wonder and complete glee. There, amongst the succulent green leaves, he saw his first lightening bug. And once he was able to see the first one, he was able to see all of them - a huge gathering of lightening bugs twinkling amongst the green. I reached down and caught one in mid-flight and held it out for Chris to see. It flashed its light a couple of times before calmly using its wings to slowly lift off my hand and find its way back into the undergrowth. I told Chris I was tempted to tell him there were tiny fairies. Of course, he had heard of lightening bugs, but he had never seen one. For the remainder of "lightening bug season," his evening walks were even more magical.

Despite all the changes that had happened over the eight years I had been away, the charms of the area remained. When we were able, we returned to our passion for exploring. Later that same summer, we decided to do a road trip that would take us along the Blue Ridge Parkway to Galax, Virginia. I had heard of Galax because it had the annual fiddlers' convention that brought in musicians from all over the world. We found a lovely B&B for the one night we would be there. The B&B was in an lovely old Victorian house with a huge wraparound porch. That evening we settled down into two wicker rocking chairs on the porch, both of us sipping some lovely, cool white wine (it was very hot that evening), and we looked out where we could see the mountains just beyond the buildings of the town. There was a thunderstorm approaching and we watched as the lightening danced in the sky. I remember at one point, we just looked at each other and smiled. 

Our move to the States was a difficult one, made more difficult by an economy that made finding jobs nearly impossible. There was the increasing pain I was experiencing in my legs and Chris found himself going back and forth between enjoying Virginia and missing the UK and his children. Ultimately, we returned when the opportunity presented itself. My mother was not only understanding, but more than agreed that it was time for us to "go home" to Scotland. The first summer we were in Virginia was when my granddaughter, Catherine, was born. Luckily, I was able to make the trip to Scotland for her birth. But my trip back to Scotland just confirmed how much I missed it. Virginia is a beautiful state, particularly where I was from in the Shenandoah Valley. But I wanted to go back to where my heart was happiest and was grateful when we returned. As the years have passed, I have been able to erase most of the bad memories of that time and remember the good. Of course, having Chris at my side always made anything tolerable. These two memories stand out in my mind - memories of Chris smiling and laughing and finding magic wherever he went.


N.B. - I don't have any photographs from our time in Virginia, but Pixabay tells me that the photograph was taken in the Shenandoah Valley.


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