Home, James.

It's the middle of summer and less than 24 hours away from six months of life without Roger. It seems so weird. I don't sit and count the days, but randomly, things hit me, and it seems that I have had a really strange heaviness hanging over me the last few days. 

I've wanted to write about the events of the past weekend, but my brain has just not sorted out so much just yet. Soon. I hope, soon. 

We went to the farmer's market this morning and bought hot peanuts. Roger always bought peanuts for the kids and I found out today that he bought cajun ones for Kristin. So many things I did not know, but none seem to surprise me. 

I guess we will never eat hot boiled peanuts again without thinking about how much Roger liked to buy them fresh and hot from the market.  Little things like that make me shake my head, wipe away a tear,  and face the reality once again that we are not in a dream, and he's not going to be buying the peanuts anymore. 

I cut a fresh peach for lunch and the smell of it made me think of Uncle James. One reason we should always 'stop and smell the roses' - and all other kinds of fragrances around us, is because of the memories they seal into our minds. When Uncle James would come to town, it was always with a bushel of fresh peaches. Elberta variety, generally.  Always the kind that you could just wash off and bite into. Then, you could eat halfway and the stone would just fall right out. They were so unlike the peaches we get these days, where half the peach stays stuck to the stone (peach pit.)   There is nothing quite like the fragrance and the taste of a really good peach!  

Roger loved it when Uncle James came to town. He loved to just chat with him, and he really loved having a bowl of fresh peaches served up for him. Maybe it is a southern thing.  That, in  itself is funny, because while everyone seemed to think that Roger was a good ole Southern gent, he was actually born in Cleveland and moved here when he was three.  I'm guilty of never letting him forget that being born in Macon, GA always trumps living in the south longer than me. (Only because he was a decade older, however!)  I guess we always ONLY thought of him as being from the South though.   Uncle James and Roger had another great love in common too  ...   KLONDIKE bars!  Daddy always kept the freezer stocked for both of them! 

Here we are in the heat of the summer and I am also thinking about how mid afternoon in the blazing heat of summer was always Roger's favorite time to go out for a run. "It keeps my muscles warm"  he would say.  "Just be sure the life insurance is paid up if you are going to do this" I would say.    There was no stopping him on running  in the heat. It is another one of those ironic things, that he had a heart attack while running on a beautiful, cool, February late afternoon.  Again, I shake my head and realize that I'll never be ever to figure it out.  It does not decrease the loss any at all though. 

Roger's Lesson:  He would laugh at me and probably say to be as smart as you can be about the decisions you make, but to do the things you love while you are here.  He would also add that you don't ever know how long your time here will be, so be sure you are ready to depart. 

And he did not worry about it. 

He loved the heat and he loved to eat. He did them well. 

I'll always think of Uncle James when I eat an especially wonderful peach, but I will also think about Roger and how he did what he loved. And I will be glad that I was included in what he loved. 

He and Uncle James are both home, in their eternal home. I would hope that they are finding fresh organic, perfect peaches and some form of amazing ice cream on Heaven's banquet table.