Delaney Sings

Tennessee Night Sounds

For Julie

On our way home one last time.

Tennessee River

Infamous Bucksnort. Ask Julie all about it!

Halfway to Grandma and Grandpa's!

Which way?

Airport

The airport exit. Many early morning, late evenings and in between rides from Kingston to Nashville,and back again. On cold, wet roads.Over the steamy Cumberland plateau to either embrace a loved one as they left, or clasp hands in anticipation of the return of one. This airport was scene to the first kiss on a new grand babies cheek, or the welcome of the newest daughter-in-law, or a beloved grandparent. It was witness to the return of a missionary, and saw the many tears of goodbyes. The halls echo the tender love that was expressed here through a hearty hug or handshake.

I dare say that all that is southern cooking is here at the Cracker Barrel. Need I say more? Just skip the okra. I warned ya!

Harriman/Rockwood/Midtown

Exit 352

Kudzu

Kingston Exit

Lawnville Rd

Almost home

Home

We're here!

The steps where many a babe crawled, a toddler scooted on padded behind in search of bugs or dirt. Teenagers skipped, and grownups tripped.

The front door into the Gudmundson home, always open for friends and family. I can only imagine the many times it was opened and shut. I can hear it clearly in my head. The click of the latch as it opened signaling the arrival of someone new. It's been slammed shut in anger, kicked in frustration, opened quietly as not to wake a sleeping babe. Someone you loved was always standing at the top of the stairs just inside with a smile and arms opened to welcome you into a needed hug. Tuxedo clad boys ready for prom, and a beautiful girl dressed in her best have exited through this very door to the world waiting on the outside.

Always welcomed. Always.

B-ball and stuff

The staircase landing where boys jumped from, landing with a crash and a thud at the bottom in a pile of giggles. (or pain) The rail that assisted tiny legs up or down, or grandparents as age required it. Sliding and swinging off a metal apparatus, the echo as it pinged. Threats of falling over the side, or siblings issuing warning of such fall, per their own doing. ( Never!!)

The tree house made with love from working hands, hammered with the desires of the little eyes watching. Secrets told, plans hatched. Sleeping bags and flashlights, tree frogs croaking just beyond. A safe, warm house that was just within sight. A sanctuary for boys and one girl.
.

Where a girl was taught how the game was played. Screeching of tennis shoes on concrete, calls of fouls and "Good shot!" Shoves and broken garage door windows. Camaraderie and some one on one. Cheerleaders from the sideline, sweat on the brow. Where differences no longer separated you. 3 point practice shots. Swish.

The wall where cars scratched along side, leaving paint marks and the resounding " Oops " Where legs swung off while eating Popsicles, and children practiced the Olympic sport of the beam. Where those not in the game sat, waiting their turn. Jumping down, climbing up.

The tree which was hit more times than not. A marker of backing up the right way, or " a little more to the right. Children pedaling trikes and bikes, skates or scooters as Mom cried " Don't go past the tree!"

The wood burning stove where excited children hung their stockings for Santa's fill. The smokey smell that permeated every piece of clothing or blanket. The warmth of love that it gave from the working hands of dad as he fiddled with the wood to start a roaring fire.

The trees that represent the boys that became men as they served missions. First, just small saplings, but as their roots took hold, they grew and matured, as nourishment was made available.

Backyard

The backyard where baseball, and kickball happened. Trampoline and tents. Cookouts and grins.

The woods where cowboys and Indians roamed freely, hide and go seek, or tag was played. Where star wars figures were buried, fireflies lite up the trees. Down by the lake, fisherman were made or broken, hot days were bearable if immersed in cool water. Rocks were skipped, reflections were reflected. Deep thoughts were thought, and private conversation could be had.