It’s quiet out there on those tobacco roads, and I suppose we were all thinking deeply and silently.
The silence of those moments was as sweet as the scent of Jasmine that floated in the summer air. Then a voice just as sweet spoke from the back seat. “Dad, isth sthummer over?” At 5 years old (he could do “five” with his fingers) he still had a little “listhp.”
I caught a quick glimpse of his questioning little face in the mirror, then another glance at his mother, and knew the real answer to his question. It was heavy on my heart: “More than summer is over, honeyboy, more than summer.”
See, we were on our way back home after a summer of fun and a life of freedom — to start school.
He was excited about school — we were not. We knew this would be the end of innocence and the beginning of a life outside our bubble. The barbarians were at the gate and our sweet child was being thrown to them. And it wasn’t even September.
Not to change the subject, but a song I hear frequently this time of year tells a great story.
“Long time ago in Bethlehem, Holy Bible say,
“Mary’s boychild Jesus Christ, was born on Christmas Day.”
I heard someone say one time that “You know the play is over when the author walks onto the stage.”
The barbarians were at the gate, long time ago in Bethlehem. But on that Holy Night when Jesus was born, I have to tell you, “More than summer was over.” The Author had taken the stage. And 30-something years later when he uttered the words “It is finished,” it was. All heaven broke loose on Earth.
I hope you get some of that on you this season.
I’ll be enjoying the days with that 5-, no, that 17-year-old, his brother and his mother, and a friend or two. We’ll be thinking about you.
Merry Christmas.
Mike Pratt of Southern Pines, former publisher of Pinehurst magazine, is a freelance marketing consultant. He wrote this as a holiday e-mail message to friends.
