The ‘Long Way’

Each time we cross the bridge over the James River in Bremo Bluff, Va. connecting Fluvanna County to Buckingham County, we think of Erin. In recent years, we pass over at dusk just as the sun is slipping behind the horizon in route to weekend visits with family or on return trips home. We slow down and quickly roll down the window to grab the last glimpse of rich orangey light trailing over the field beside the riverbank or bending across the moving water below the bridge.

The ‘Long Way’ was a whispered request of Erin to her dad during the last year of her life when she was so ill. She would wait for Rob to come home from work, sit up straight on the couch when she heard the door open, and call, “Dad, go the long way”. They would take off together in the car…always a sacred father/daughter time; yet, sometimes Diana or I would ride along in the backseat. Rob would head down Rt. 15S to the bridge at Bremo Bluff where Erin would push the buttons to roll down all the windows, stretch her arms out the window, lean her face into the wind, and with hair flailing wildly, open her mouth in laughter as they sped across the bridge. The temperature outside didn’t matter. For when it was bitter cold, Erin would reach out further to freeze her fingers and quickly put the back of her hand on her dad’s face. Rob would then turn the car around and drive back across once again to repeat the daily ritual with his arm extending out the window following Erin’s lead. Either before the bridge or right after the trip back across, Erin would direct Rob to go the ‘Long Way’, which was the loop through Bremo Bluff down a short country lane with historic homes and a steep hill leading down to the riverside road that floods every time the banks overflow….and to the old white houses with cats. Rob would slow down for Erin to count cats…on and under porches, in yards, by garages, under trees…”Three cats, Erin?…Four cats?” She’d return home with a proudly stated accomplishment ..”Four cats! Yoo-hoo!”

These days the ‘Long Way’ seems long ago…We don’t often travel this way and cross the Bremo bridge less often. But when we do cross over, roll down the windows, and feel the wind brushing between our fingers, those familiar feelings arise in our hearts…bringing with them mixtures of warmth and sorrow along with episodes – brief clips – of the simple everyday interactions we shared woven over a lifetime…Erin’s lifetime. We hear her voice in our minds, see her face more clearly, and feel her close to our hearts as the sun sets with its brilliance taking her from us once again across the sky and behind the horizon.

Until next time…Love you, Erin Lee.