It is Easter Sunday. I awakened in the middle of the day after working the night shift. There is much to be grateful for and I give thanks. It is raining. Sweetie, my dog needs to go outside to do her thing. We walk out for a short stroll. My eyes look up at the clouds in the sky. The apartments around me appear quiet. It is not a hard rain , just a mist. I look over to a huge tree in the backyard of a house within eyes glance. The tree stands sturdy and strong. I remember that yard from forty- one years ago. At that time there was no tree. There was no grass. The house that sits there now, had just been built in a new subdivision in St. Charles County, Missouri. There was farm land all around. The rumor was that someday the area would be a beautiful city. The earth was hard clay dirt. Who would have thought that a tree could have grown that beautiful in the red clay. Who would have thought that this small town would develop into such a rich and prosperous city. The rumor became reality. As Sweetie and I walked back into my apartment, I remembered how proud my first husband and I were when we had that house built back in the 60’s.
The passed few days of events in St. Louis have brought about many thoughts. Some are of the past and some in the present. A tornado hit St. Louis Friday night. It passed over my neighborhood as Sweetie and I took cover in the bathroom of my one bedroom apartment. It hit the St. Louis airport where I use to work. The storms hit the surrounding areas of Maryland Heights, St. Ann, Bridgeton and Berkley. Even though there was huge damage done, no lives were lost. That was a miracle! The storm was also in Granite City, Illinois. In my life time I have lived or owned a house in each of these areas. I looked at the pictures today of the homes that have been destroyed and damaged in in my old neighborhoods. My heart goes out to the folks this Easter week end as they pull their lives back together. I remember the tornado of 1967. I lived in the same area. It missed the house that I lived in and took down others on my street.
As I write this story, I wonder how it will be for my grandchildren forty years from now as they remember this city in St. Charles. What stories will they have to share with their children on an Easter Sunday? Will they tell my great grandchildren about my retirement years and my life? What will be sitting in the back yard of their first home?
At this moment, no matter where you, a story is taking place on this day to be remembered and shared. I hope that each of you are finding peace from within as the journey of life goes on. Neighborhoods will be rebuilt. There is no price tag on what is in the heart or a life! Boomers are like the sturdy oak tree. We stand strong! May the sun shine in each heart as we tell our stories.