Passage

"If these old walls,
If these old walls could speak
Of things that they remember well,
Stories and faces dearly held,
A couple in love
Livin' week to week,
Rooms full of laughter,
If these walls could speak.

If these old halls,
Hallowed halls could talk,
These would have a tale to tell
Of sun goin' down and dinner bell,
And children playing at hide and seek
From floor to rafter,
If these halls could speak.

They would tell you that I'm sorry
For bein' cold and blind and weak.
They would tell you that it's only
That I have a stubborn streak,
If these walls could speak.

If these old fashioned window panes were eyes,
I guess they would have seen it all -
Each little tear and sigh and footfall,
And every dream that we came to seek
Or followed after,
If these walls could speak.

They would tell you that I owe you
More than I could ever pay.
Here's someone who really loves you;
Don't ever go away.
That's what these walls would say.

They would tell you that I owe you
More than I could ever pay.
Here's someone who really loves you;
Don't ever go away.
That's what these walls would say."  If These Walls Could Speak, Amy Grant

If only we knew at the time that people and places are temporary. That we need to notice and treasure every minute we spend with significant people and significant places.

I lived four other places before I was three years old, but the only house I remember is 102 Glenn St. Enterprise, Alabama. I lived there with my family until August of 1973 when I was nineteen years old and moved to Birmingham to continue my college education. Why didn't I pay attention when I hugged my mother, my father and my kid sister goodbye as I drove away.? Except for occasional  visits at  holidays,  I would never live there again. I guess I was too excited about where I was going to pay attention to where I was. 

My siblings and I had long since moved away. My dad died in 1995. My mother was the last Helms inhabitant of 102 Glenn St when  she moved into assisted living. in 2002. So now it has nearly been as long since "we" lived there as I lived there. 

I left home forty three years ago this week. When I woke up this morning in this house my thoughts were of that house.. And of my mother, my father, my brother and my sister who lived together all those many  years.

Anytime we are tempted to regret, the antidote is to instead feel gratitude. We have a choice. We can feel badly that we didn't pay attention, that we didn't savor every minute of special people, special time and special places that are gone for good.  Or we can explode in celebration for what we were given. For the times we had. Or better yet, we can look around  at where we are sitting, of the people under this roof and pay attention today.  This too shall pass.

Over twenty years ago in a moment of manic inspiration while listening to "If These Walls Could Speak" I wrote a five page letter to my mother about 102 Glenn Street, Enterprise, Alabama.  It was about that house and the people with whom I shared it. Like those years we lived there, that letter is long gone. I would like to read it now, but I really don't need to. I could write it again. Well, I'm writing it again. Since I can't send it to mom, I'm sending it to you. It's not important that you understand what I'm feeling this morning about my childhood home, it's not all that important that you recall your childhood home It's important that you consider the impermanence of where you are. It will not always be like this. All too soon the movers  will come knocking and you will be on your way.  But when this happens turn around and pay attention. You may think you will love where you are going, but for that moment you need to be totally and completely where you are. For you will never pass this way again.