long drive.

I was pretty overdue for a visit to my folks. Aside from my mother regularly nagging me about coming home, promising bribes of fresh honey and vegetables, she'd even casually mentioned that I visited less often than my sister did. I figured if I was going to keep my position as favorite child, I'd need to get down there.

From Raleigh to Lenoir is a long drive if you have nothing to think about, and so I thought about some old family slides that my uncle had recently uploaded to the web. These were all taken from my late grandfather's collection, documenting life in one extended Kansas family from the 50s to the early 80s. There are lots of pictures of people who I can't identify at all, though I recognize their noses or chins. Then there are others that show people that I do recognize, but they're not as I know them.

Seeing pictures of people when they are young adults always makes me a little sad. They seem so young and vibrant and open for any possibility. They knew they could do anything, and they felt immortal. They have no idea what is in store for them, and they might even think they have their lives all planned out already. Even if they end up leading happy lives, it couldn't have been what they expected. It makes me realize how uncertain my future is.

There were pictures of my parents while they were courting in California in 1960. My mother is the picture of innocence, all shy and fresh-faced. She doesn't know that she will have six children. She doesn't know that she will leave the Worldwide Church of God and become a card-carrying United Methodist. She has no idea that she will eventually learn to like squash. In 1960, she wouldn't have thought to imagine those things happening to her. But they did. Does that mean that I will someday like cantaloupe? I cannot imagine such a future world, no matter how long of a drive I have to think about it.

The long drive came to and end, and as I pulled up the long and winding driveway that leads to my parents' house, my headlights illuminated four pairs of eyes looking at me. The goats were out of their pen and sitting calmly on the makeshift concrete basketball court next to the house. I parked and got out, and they looked at me, ready to bolt if I came any closer, but content to stay put if I left them alone. The wind shifted. Goats smell bad.

I walked up the steps to the back door to let myself in, hoping that the door wasn't locked. As I reached the top step, the automatic porch light came on and I found another set of misplaced animals. Lying down in the back yard were two donkeys. Maybe some of you think that Raleigh is just a small town, but I promise that I never run into livestock where I live.

I let myself in the house and didn't try that hard to be quiet. Mama woke up and came to give me a hug, and I told her the animals were out. She sighed and went to wake up Daddy. A few minutes later we were all out in the yard: me with no shoes, Daddy completely dressed, and Mama in her nightgown and a pair of garden clogs with socks. I sat on the back porch with the dog and watched them chase the donkeys and goats back into their pen.

Finally, Mama came back to the house, and I got up and put my arm around here. "So when you were eighteen years old, posing for pictures with your fiance in Pasadena, did you ever think you'd be chasing donkeys in the middle of the night in North Carolina?" I ask her.

She laughs. "Well, there are worse things."