Springtime 2003- I felt the warmth of the sun on my face. The window was down on my truck, and the breeze was gentle as it blew through my hair. I was on the way to my grandmother’s home to pick her up as she wished to take a trip out into the country. We both lived in Dayton and have lived here for most of our lives. I was her oldest grandchild, and we liked to do things together. We even got our driver’s licenses at the same time, so she was more of a pal than a grandmother.
She and Grandpa had a farm in Adams County when I was a child, and we would spend almost every weekend there. That was 35 years ago. He taught me to fish, gave me rides on his tractor, and chocolate ice cream cones in his ’46 Ford truck with the windshield that rolled open. The breeze that blew in the front window would hasten the drip of melting ice cream so that it dripped down my shirt before I could finish the cone. He never wanted anything in return but a hug and a kiss –“some sugar” as he called it– at the end of our excursion. Cancer took Grandpa from me when I was 11 years old. My tiny heart was broken, and the farm was sold.
I loved those weekends in the country as a child, so I was excited that Grandma asked me to drive her and spend an afternoon away from the noise of the city. How long had it been since I was away from here? I had been living and working in or near the city my entire adult life. I worked at a job that I did not like, (Actually, I hated it) with people that were unkind, rude, and a cube mate that bullied me incessantly. To top it off, my job was in the basement of a tall building in downtown Dayton. There were no windows and for months it was dark when I would go to work, and dark when I would come home. It was on one of those dark drives to work that I narrowly escaped a carjacking. I remember how calm I was during the ordeal, and how I cried when it was all over. By the grace of God and by my being armed, I was able to get away. So, I was always tense, and I was always on defense. Taking a drive in the country sounded like a much-needed break.
On the way over to Grandma’s, I recalled the rolling hills of Adams County and the gentle waves of the weeds in the side ditches where we would hunt for wild asparagus. I remembered the big black snake that Grandma chased away from the little house with her broom. And of course, who would not remember the tire swing in the front yard that I spent hours on swinging back and forth without a single care or a thought in the world? The creaking sound the rope made against the tree with each swing while the leaves rustled in the tree- I could still hear that sound. I remember the pump in the front yard and how much fun it was to fetch water. I began to breathe more slowly.
I arrived at her home, and she showed me some newspaper articles that she had clipped from our Dayton newspaper. The first article she showed me was about a general store that sells bulk candy and the second article was about a new business that had recently opened in which you could try different wines and that they were both in Darke County.
“Darke County? Where’s that?” “Is that far from here?” “ I was going to need a map for this trip.“ Luckily, I had one in the glove box.
We started out driving north on State Route 48 for Darke County in my old Chevy Tahoe. I always brought along a step stool for her to get in and out of my truck because she was in her 80’s. We turned west on State Route 36 and headed towards Greenville. We looked for a good northern route to take us to Birts Store in New Weston, and it looked like we would have to find a “State Route 118.” That was the first place Grandma wanted to go. From my map it looked like it would take an hour to get there.
She spoke about the newspaper article again and about how much candy they had at the store. “Did you know they have 500 different kinds of candy at Christmas?” “Can you imagine?” No. I can’t. – It’s finally Spring, and the last thing I want to think about is gray skies that match the pavement, snowy winter days, or having to shop for gifts again. I was always a bit sarcastic, and Grandma just gave me a side glance. “The look.”
We drove down State Rt 36 and spotted a sign for a mill, and I asked her casually if she wanted to see it, and of course she did, so I found a place to turn around and went back to see the Bears mill. I couldn’t believe something like this was even in Ohio- and not that far away from Dayton. They ground wheat flour and corn meal in the building using the same equipment from 200 years ago. I had recently tried baking my own bread, so I was interested in baking technology and toured the mill walking up and down through all of the floors. We purchased some of the different flours, got back into the truck, looked at the map, and headed for Birt’s Store.
I thought about my flour purchases. One of the reasons I started to bake bread was to learn patience. I have none. My job makes me intemperate and I know it. I looked at the scenery while driving as if looking at another world. I am sure grandma was talking and I should have been listening. I squinted as I realized beauty I hadn’t seen before. The farms, the landscapes, the weathered barns, and the total lack of traffic. I murmured to her how pretty everything looked. “What did you say, honey?” she said. “Nothing grandma.” I secretly wanted to be a part of it.
We arrived at our destination, and I was a kid in a candy store- a 40-year-old kid- but a kid, nonetheless. I was 10 years old again with each new discovery of a different candy confection. I filled bags with chocolates, hard candies, and fruit chews. My grandmother struck up a conversation with the owner, and you would have thought they had known each other for years.
People out here are just nicer than people downtown. I didn’t want to feel envious, but I was. I wanted whatever these people seemed to have, but I didn’t know what it was.
Next on Grandma’s list was the Winery. It was in Versailles, or close to it on the map. Another long drive. We arrived at our destination, and it looked like a barn in the middle of a corn field. This can’t be the right place. I chuckled that a winery would be in the middle of a corn field.
We went in and the laugh was on me. It was beautiful inside and so well decorated. We had never been to a wine tasting before. In fact, I had never heard of one before. I was the driver, so Grandma did all the tasting, and she soon decided on a favorite. She purchased a couple of bottles to take home to share with my aunts.
On the way home, we both reflected upon the day, and I looked over and said to her in my most genuine voice, “Grandma, someday I am going to live here.” She looked at me as if puzzled, and asked me why, and I replied, “Because it’s the most beautiful place I could ever want to live.”
Grandma and I made our trip to Darke County a yearly tradition each May. Each adventure was as enjoyable as the last. We made four more trips in all before that hideous disease took her from me as well.
I never believe in coincidence. Everything happens for a reason. The battles before me were challenging but never overwhelming. At times it felt like I was climbing a mountain of sand. I left an abusive relationship and quit that horrible job, and in time I found my way here. The day I signed the deed on my modest home out in the country my heart was filled with joy. Not just for me, but for her too.
The beauty I remember from that first trip has never left my mind or my sight. Occasionally I stand outside in my backyard in the quiet of the evening, and I look up at the sky and softly say “I made it Grandma, I finally made it.”
