By Lorry Myers
When each of my children graduated high school, they flew away to college, fluttered around for a while, then started their careers and the rest of their lives in big cities in other states. My husband was a steadfast advocate of giving your children wings to fly. Randy wanted our three children to have the education he never considered, and careers that would give them opportunities to see and change the world.
So, they spread their wings and flew away.
Even though Randy wanted his children to get out in the world, he still wanted them close. To insure that, he gave Taylor, Hilary and Mariah a six-hour time limit; meaning they could move anywhere as long as Randy could drive there in six-hours. If Randy needed to get to them, six hours is all he could tolerate. With that in mind, our daughters moved to a city three hours from their parents, but only few minutes from each other. Our son, Taylor, who has been known to stretch his boundaries, moved to a city six hours and thirty minutes away.
Close enough to make a point.
Suddenly, these crazy kids were on planes to Malaysia, Korea, and Mexico. They would send photos from street bazaars in foreign countries and PGA golf courses that looked like a foreign country. Our children were excelling in their jobs, learning new things, falling in love, raising families, and apparently, having the time of their lives.
Until the time their lives changed.
When their father died unexpectedly, these close-knit siblings started worrying about their mother. Last year, when Hilary took a chance and moved back, Taylor knew that it wouldn’t be long before Mariah followed her sister home. It didn’t help that I would text my son pictures of my flickering lights and ask if my house would burn down. Then there was that photo of my lawn mower blades wrapped around a plastic drainpipe.
“Mom.” Taylor texted back. “Mom.”
Then one day, after driving six plus hours to check on me, Taylor saw a hiring banner on the side of the road for a local company he was familiar with. He took a chance, applied on a whim and four weeks later, his traveling days are over. Taylor sold his city house, loaded up everything and moved six and a half hours to a new home.
For the complete column, see this week’s edition of the Centralia Fireside Guard
