We have a Thanksgiving tradition. We take a long walk after lunch. It started years ago before we had kids. My brothers would show up with their kids and we would get to be Uncle Kyle and Aunt Cindy. We would give the parents a break and the granddads a chance to watch the football games.
Behind my childhood home was a creek and beyond the creek was an apartment complex and then the woods. A long underground storm drain tunnel connected the creek to the woods as it traveled under the apartments. The concrete circle loomed like a hungry mouth. It was dark and frightening and the fear made it fun. We gathered up flashlights put on our mud shoes and headed into the twilight. As the inky blackness embraced us we held tightly to each other walking like a strange caterpillar. We tried to do it without the flashlights. It was possible because the long tunnel was shattered by shafts of light
At first, they were just narrow cones of light pouring into the tunnel from storm drains. We shuffled along keeping our feet out of the water. Once we reached the pool of light it was hard to set off again into the darkness. There was lots of giggling and scaring each other.
Now, so many years later, those kids have grown up and have kids of their own and ours is the house they come to for the holiday. Still, there is the excitement of the after-meal walk.
There is no tunnel, but Cain Park always calls to us. We walk by the pond, the bent-over tree, the dirt ramp bridge, and over to the playground. Then after the swings, we head to the top of the hill, through the woods, past the Tennis Courts, and then finally head back home. On this journey, we started collecting bits of color along the way. When we got home I made this collage.
Sometimes I think of the dark tunnel and how we went together and it made it bearable and even fun. I think of the pool of light. I think of the woods. God keeps reminding me that He wants to break into every person's life and shower them with love and light.
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