Four Wheeling (or Fourlin', If You Will)

Before Saturday, I had never been on a four wheeler before.

But, you know, I had never rolled a four wheeler either.

I was in town to be at my grandparents' homecoming from their LDS mission to Armenia. While we were there, my uncle was super stoked to take all the nieces and nephews four wheeling.

I was hooked instantly.

On my first ride, I drove with my mom. This stressed me out a bit, but once I got going I was surprised at how much I loved it. I felt so hardcore... though I was only going like 15 MPH.

Once I felt more confident, we went back to pick up some of the younger cousins. With my 9 year-old sister and 7 year-old cousin on the back of my machine, I followed my uncle for my second ride.

After a while he warned me that we were coming up to a really steep hill. He gave me some instruction and went down the hill.

At the top, I felt scared. I didn't want to do this. But that feeling of invincibility that we all get between the ages of 16 and 30 kicked in, and suddenly I was willing to try anything.

Probably shouldn't have tried this though.

Going down, I gassed it a little too hard. I hit the brake and felt the machine tip a bit. Instead of leaning, I automatically turned in the opposite direction.

That's when the four wheeler flipped.

My cousin, my sister, and I all were thrown off the machine. It rolled over us and landed at the bottom of the hill.

As soon as I could, I jumped up and checked that the girls weren't trapped under the machine. They weren't. I don't think I've ever been as appreciative of the fact that my uncle is an EMT as I was in that moment. He checked on Sara, and I checked on Bella. They were both fine, just shaken.

Once we got back to the house, my other sister and other cousin who were riding with my uncle had a total come apart. I guess watching us tumble was scarier than actually tumbling. The parents were all stressed, and so was my uncle. I was just embarrassed.

This morning I woke up bruised and beaten. I don't think there is a part of my body that doesn't feel sore.

Still- this all makes for a good story, right?

...Right?

Tie a Yellow Ribbon 'Round the Ole Oak Tree

Have you seen the Google today? I ran across it at work and I teared up a little.


Almost 5 years ago my mom, my siblings, and I spent a Saturday morning tying yellow ribbon in the four trees on our front lawn.

We filled every tree, using a ladder to reach the highest branches.

We did this because later in the week, dad was finally coming home from Iraq!

A year before, we were getting ready to say goodbye. My mom remembers...

The worst part of Paul's deployment to Iraq was the weeks leading up to him leaving.  I started clenching my jaw.  I could hardly open my mouth which turned out to be convenient because I wasn't hungry.  It was terrifying to me to try and plan for every possible eventuality.    "What if I need a new car?" "What is the plan if I am hurt or killed while Paul is gone?"  "What is the plan if . . .?"  It was too much.   In a way it was a relief the day he left.  Finally!  We can get on with this and get it over with!  I dropped him off at the 4th Infantry Division Building, drove home and slept for four hours.  
 
It was about a week before dad was leaving, maybe it was just a few days.  Paul and I drove to Ft. Hood.  We were running errands and taking care of last minute things.  I think that day we needed to update a power of attorney or something like that.  Anyway, we were at the intersection just before the train tracks on South Ft. Hood Street and Business 1-90.  Before the light turned green the railroad crossing bars came down and we knew we were going to be sitting there awhile.  On the radio the DJ announced that the next song was "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas".  Bing Crosby sang and we were sad.  What we were enduring didn't feel little or merry.  Then he sang the words.  "A year from now our troubles will be out of sight."  It is a powerful but unhappy memory. 

I remember the train and the song and the pressure and crying into my hands, praying that Paul and I would be up to the tasks we were facing.  

That year we decorated our house in blue and silver for Christmas, instead of red and gold, and had a Blue Christmas. It was a rough year, but it ended with the safe return of our soldier.

So, on Veteran's Day, I think about those who have fought and who are fighting. But I also think of the wives and children who are eagerly counting down the days, those who are saying their goodbyes, and those who are in between, just praying not to hear bad news today.

But mostly, I think of my dad.