Picking My Way Through Briars
Copyrighted by Lorna Tedder. Originally published in Third Degree Below.
I enjoy my brothers. They are both quite a bit older than I am, me being the long-awaited baby of the family. But the past 24 hours have been very good for me in at least one respect—spending time with my brothers and getting to talk openly with them for an extended period of time.
Last night, my younger brother, his son, Shannon, and I sat at the kitchen table and talked most of the night. Shannon fell asleep practically at the table at 2 and went to bed. The three of us stayed up for another hour, and then I was up until 4:30, tried to sleep, woke up again at dawn. But what wonderful, colorful conversation all night! Deep, intense, passionate, enlightening.
I’ve missed that. Not just with my brothers but… with…yeah.
We talked about religion, about small towns, about marketing, about philosophy, about psychology, about family matters, about Daddy, about everything. We used to do that more often…meet up once or twice a year and stay up until dawn talking about life, death, and the Universe…and last night, in a very literal sense.
This afternoon, I stomped over the farm with both brothers and swore I’d come back later with my camera. One brother went back to the house to take care of some matters and the other accompanied me for several more miles of walking through the tall winter grasses and down in the dry stream where the deer are wont to run.
I’d been antsy before then, but a few hours of picking
my way barefoot through briars is actually quite grounding for me. Pardon the analogy. Wow, but that’s accurate. Then I felt peaceful again. A lot of it for me is being able to share openly my hurt and my anger with people who understand this.
Getting to reconnect with my brothers on a deeper level than in a long while was…nice. Picking through the literal and figurative briars has been the best part, though.