A friend of the family pulled into PR Country Comforts ( my parent’s farm) for a visit and to catch up. This was a woman who has known me since I was a little girl and as we were telling stories she asked about my continued passion for running. My mom was sitting in on the conversation as I gave a little ‘running catch-up’ and brief description of my local running routes. It took my mom for surprise that I would have ‘different routes’ in order to have ‘different views’ and running experiences. This took me by surprise, of course runners go for the views. I may even be so bold as to say we go a little further, deeper, harder, and faster in order to get to the best views and stories!
That conversation surfaced for me this morning as I laced up to get in a few of the views before my daughter woke up. As I stepped out in typical Tulley fashion, no watch, no plan, eager to see where my Tulley Toes were going to lead…..
I love warming up and getting in sync with my breath as I go along a short little path that parallels the rocky Yellowstone river for a few steps and then into a small camp site. I’m always curious as to the wanderers that have landed in our small, non-touristy town. Today I found i was able to wonder about what surely must be a family with young kids, as there was a little pool, trikes, and bikes strewn about. Just proves that it can be a good view regardless of where you land, its all in the attitude.
I turned left after this and inexplainably found myself running past my elementary school and down the road to the dump. Now the poetic contrast was not lost on me as took in these new views (and smells). And it must have only been one thing that led my Tulley Toes here……my mom in my head…..because the greatest love story I know is rooted in the treasure of the dump.
My parents got married young and then had my sister and I young as well. Just like any kid, I don’t remember all that much in detail, but memories have been made from the stories that have been told. My dad was the only one who worked outside the house and my mother worked taking care of my sister and I. I never remember wanting for anything and I do remember playing with a tea set, on the porch, under the Montana Big Sky…..so it couldn’t have been that bad.
I’m sure my parents may have a more budget conscious story about raising us kids but I also can tell you I never heard much complaining in my house (which has served me well in life as well).
My 5′ 7″ Dad always seemed bigger than life to me and the story of him and my mom hunting through things ‘dumped’ on the surface seems so crude….yet how they viewed these broken things is the site to be seen. My father, by trade, fixes cars, so it’s no surprise that he can see past something dented, peeled, or distorted, to view it as it was really meant to be. And so, they would take these seemingly worthless items, like trikes, toys, and bikes home. It is here that they would bring back to their former glory these abandoned trinkets. I’m sure my sister and I were thrilled to play with appropriate restored gems, but what really melts my heart is what they did next……my parents would take in these ‘like new’ items and sell them to the second-hand store in town.
These ‘extra’ coins were then turned it to any ‘extras’ our family enjoyed, particularly tickets for the drive in movie theater where we all watched from our panel sided station wagon, the first Star Wars. I’ve also heard stories of Dad turning these trashes into the treasure of a date night with Mom.
So, as I pass through streets maybe past their glory days, I’m reminded to look past the rust or the weeds to the story and the view that is meant to be shared and seen.
Groovy Girls Go……..And See What Was Meant To Be Seen