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Memories of the Hall County Courthouse
Page 2by
Wes Reeves |
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1
(continued) Big wooden drawers are ready to be opened, revealing
more paper to color, shred or whatever pleases me.
Not
one thing bad about this place. Not one thing. I have no idea that someone upstairs
may be going to jail. No one talks about the time when dark-skinned people couldn’t
drink out of the same water fountain I use. For me, nothing bad exists in this
place.
I am bathed in pulses of light, smell and taste that exist only
in this place. I’m also surrounded in love – all these old people keep patting
my head and talking about weeds. I don’t know what they’re saying, but I feel
safe here. I don’t want to go home. I don’t want to grow up. I don’t want anyone
to die.
The memories are only faded remains of what once was. All too soon
it’s 30 years hence, and things are different. I lost my grandmother. She left
us from a nursing home bed, unable to move or speak. I grew up and nobody pats
my head anymore. I’m not growing like a weed, just going to seed. That’s probably
my station in life now.
Meanwhile the courthouse languishes. The grand
windows are gone – replaced by energy-efficient peepholes. No need for swatting
wasps, I suppose, but those windows aren’t very inspirational. The echoes are
a little softer, too, thanks to acoustical tiles and suspended ceilings. The damage
from Nanny’s stroke was irreparable, but I bet someone could fix that courthouse
and make it like it was.
I have to remind myself that I can’t bottle life
and youth and save it. It’s taken from me as sure as the sun will set at the end
of the day. Love and God are for eternity, though, and no one can take from me
the feeling of security I had in that old courthouse. Even so, it’s a little harder
to remember with each advancing year. When I take a step back into that old courthouse,
in spite of the changes, the essence of all that once was comes rushing back,
vibrant and alive. I take a leap closer to lost love, and I like the way it feels.
If the courthouse goes the way of my grandmother, it will filter back into the
recesses of my faraway memories, stored away for another day. But oh how nice
it is to get just a little bit closer when I can. How great it is to touch lost
loved ones when we touch the walls that surrounded so many of their happy days.
I know I’ll see Nanny again at some point, but for now, the courthouse is all
we have left of her, and I don’t want to lose that.
© Wes Reeves |
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