Wouldn’t it be wonderful to know of the little dramas that here played out in days gone by? Would they whisper of a young couple sitting on the porch in the evening twilight, listening to the chirp of the cicada, seeing the twinkling lightning bugs on the edge of the garden, and making their plans to be married? Would they recount the story of a young mother giving birth to her first child in a quilt-covered bed, midwife in attendance, while the anxious father paced the front porch? Would they ring with the delightful squeals of children as a grandfather entertained them with stories as they sat by a cozy fire on a winter’s night? Would they echo fiddle music, and lullabies?
Undoubtedly there was laughter; there were tears; happy moments as well as heartbreaking calamities; moments of great historical significance as well as mere everyday events. What were the sights and sounds? What grew in the garden? What dinners did they eat? Were there celebrations, struggles, close calls, special visitors? Did a loved one march bravely off to war? What were the dreams they dreamed, and the prayers they prayed?
Time moves forward and we cannot look back, but only imagine what was not recorded.
Fast forward to 2009 . . . .
There is a story to be told. Let it not be said that the 21st century inhabitants left it untold. Those that went before us left their legacy in their own way, we will leave ours.