He lives in the corner house with the rusted farm tools in the yard. The old RV, no longer parked in the driveway, used to sport the name of their family bluegrass band. I've walked by their two-parcel homestead many times over the years and so today, when I circled back, I was excited to see someone in the yard for the first time.
It went like this. I greeted him and he greeted me back, pausing mid-stride with his mail in hand. There was mention of the beautiful day, and then I confessed I have long admired his property. That's all it took for Harold to tell me the stuff of his heart. How, having lived there since 1957 with his beloved wife, Elva, he now wonders if it might be time to pack it up, you know, move on. Elva's been gone since February, and frankly, he says, "It's hard to get motivated." Harold tells me being married to her was everything, natural as breathing.
He still makes music, "cause Elva loved it, and it just makes people feel better." He said he plays there on Thursdays because he enjoys it and it brings other people joy too. Then I said he sure has found a fine way to spread his light.
There was more shared there in the driveway and the summer sun and then I left him there, shuffling his mail and summoning up the courage to go back inside where he crafted a fine life with Elva, a life that spanned 60 glorious years. May the memory of his beloved buoy him onward.