There and Back Again: A Welty’s Quest, Part I

Seven years ago…

I rapidly blink as my eyes come back into focus; the words on the page suddenly becoming clear.  I stare at ancient wisdom, words and ideas of a time gone by, words of wisdom from great men, words I desperately want to grasp and understand with my feeble mind; a language no longer used, the language of the Founders.  I try as best I can to block out the noise around me, it’s that camp song about the Blue Jay, again.  As I feel movement under me, the wheels on the bus propelling me and about 45 other people forward, I realize how uncomfortable the seat is; it sure doesn’t help that the little kryptonite goblin known as joint pain sees an opportunity for mischief .  The fact that everyone is screaming, the fifth verse of the song having reached it’s apex, doesn’t do me good either.  All of these factors come together at once, shattering any concentration I thought I had mustered in an attempt to further my knowledge.

Turning my head, I put the volume down and begin to stare out the window, at the fields, trees, and yellow lines on the road; I think back to all the other times I’d been on this bus over the years:  Jr. High to the Dunes, Counselor Fresh Start, Reborne Rangers, the memories are legion.

Before long the lumbering golden behemoth screeches to a stop.  With that the director gives some instructions and students begin to file out of the bus.  Knowing the virtue of patience, I wait, still staring out the window.  Finally I decide to stand, my joints creaking and groaning in anger and hatred as I grasp the seat in front of me for assistance.  ever so slowing I walk down the stairs, careful step after careful step. As I exit the bus, I can hear the crunch of the pavement under my feet, the scrape of my shoes as the rubber soles are weakened with every step I try and take.  I know this place, I’ve been here before.  The trees are still green, as they had been before; there is an ethereal spirit about this place, a whisper of hollowed sacredness; this is a protected place, for here, things happened, good things, orchestrated by the One who is the Conductor of the symphony that is the Universe around us.  Everything around me screams Existence, from the emerald trees to the distant rustle that is the white surf.

The students begin to make their way down the “rockface” that is to the side of the bus.  In reality it’s just a wall of sand, but a challenge none the less. As if on cue, out of nowhere two individuals appear, offering to assist me in my descent to the beach and surf below.  I recognized both of these faces as people I had rubbed shoulders with in the last few days on this return trip to Lake Ann Camp in Michigan; they were students here, minds desiring knowledge, learning, and understanding – as I myself was.  Very carefully we make our way down to the beach, the great lake of Michigan stretched out before us unending, as it raced on to meet the horizon.  It was here that we parted ways…as I found what I had come for, my spot, that white rock…the white rock that changed everything…

To be continued…

 

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Aaron

About Aaron

Author, Speaker, and Super Nerd. Aaron Welty speaks and writes regularly connecting the dots of life, faith, and science fiction. Originally from Michigan, he now lives and works in the Washington, D.C. Metro area.

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  1. Pingback: The Mount Moriah Skeletor, Part II - Aaron Welty | Aaron Welty

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