The Magnolias Are Blooming

Big fragrant flowers… they remind me of being a child in Atlanta. We had a large front yard and in one corner by the street on the opposite side of the lawn from the driveway sat a large magnolia tree.

This was a great tree. Magnolias don't grow straight and tall like an oak. They twist and tumble. They meander and swoop. It's as if they don't really have a clear idea of where they are going or how exactly they are going to get there. I feel that way some of the time.

This was an old tree. The trunk was huge and the lower limbs were thick and strong. Strong enough that a ten year old could walk from the trunk the length of the limbs to the ground and they would only flex a little bit. It was tall and if you were to imagine the perfect tree for climbing this was it. The limbs stretched out and touched the ground all around the tree probably twenty or twenty five feet out from the base of the trunk. The result was almost like a tent. You would slip in between the big waxy leaves and it looked like a giant jungle gym on the inside. The ground inside the limbs was covered with fallen leaves in various stages of decay. The lop layer dry and crunchy under foot the layers below rotting, becoming incredibly productive soil. The smell inside the magnolia's embrace was rich and damp, heavy with the odor of clean earth.

When the tree bloomed the entire space was filled with a sweet perfume almost sickeningly sweet. As the heat baked the yard the magnolia was a cool retreat where we explored our imaginations. It was everything from a pirate ship, to a jail, to a submarine; the list goes on and on.

One of my best memories as a child (best is such a strange term, there are so many great memories) One of the memories is waiting on my father to get home from work. We lived on a busy street with lots of traffic. When it was close to the time for my father to arrive from work we would climb the magnolia. From high in the branches we would watch the street and wait. We would wait what to children seemed like forever and when we would finally see his car down the tree we would scramble. We would come busting out of those branches like wild monkeys and race to the car not able to get our arms around him fast enough. It was far and away the high point of our day and we couldn't wait to tell him all about the adventures of the day. There were so many adventures back then… where did they all go?

This all comes to mind because the magnolias are blooming right now and the smell brings back the memories. The memories bring to mind the present. Two realities I'm currently dealing with…

First, I have been reminded that there will be a day that no matter how long I wait in those branches with baited breath my father will not be coming home again. I will not be able to feel his arms around me protecting me from the world nor have his ear anxiously waiting to hear my adventures. The thought of it kept me up most of the night last night. Haven't really cried in a while and I shared some time with the sunrise this morning being close to the idea of him. Well spent time. Sammy and Aubie didn't really understand why I was upset but they don't speak English very well so that doesn't surprise me too much. They understood the tears well enough.

Second, I really want to have someone feel that way about me. Someone who waits in the branches anticipating my arrival. Not that I am their world. Just that when I am coming into it from time to time there couldn't be anything better going on in their world at that moment. That's not coming out at all the way I want it to but it's a pretty fuzzy concept. I think I am just tired of chasing. I know that as a guy we pursue the girl. But every once in a while I wish the girl wanted more than anything in the world to be in my arms. There is a song that comes to mind, about always having to steal my kisses from you. Would love to have the woman of my dreams grab onto me, push me down and kiss me like she has been thinking about it all day. Been a long time since I felt like that.

The dreams I chase are not half as interesting as the reality I endure. Why do I have my focus backwards?