GRANDMA'S OLD BLACK BELL

 

 When we’re about to leave our cabin in North Carolina

I always feel compelled 

to take a moment…pull the cord…and ring Grandma’s old black bell.

This bell hangs next to the cabin steps

where it’s hung for how long…I really couldn’t say.

The story is Deborah’s mom convinced Deborah’s dad to buy it

and against his better judgement…he bought it anyway.

When our children were still children and Deborah’s parents were still alive

her mom would ring that bell to call us in for supper…usually around five.

And wherever we were at that moment…we all felt compelled 

to come running to the cabin when we heard Grandma ring her bell.

Even though Grandma hasn’t been here to ring that bell…in oh so many years

the memories attached to her bell…still ring within my ears.

It’s the reason before we leave the cabin…before we say farewell

I take a moment to pull the cord and ring Grandma’s old black bell.

For a moment something wonderful happens…

to which I’m no longer surprised…

The memories attached to that bell begin to materialize.

I see Grandma standing there ringing her bell…

I can’t think of any sound that’s sweeter…

and I see our children with smiles on their faces, hands waving in the air

running up to greet her.

I enjoy these memories for a while…

let them linger as long as they want to dwell 

before those wonderful memories are absorbed back into the bell..

To many who visit our cabin…I imagine

that weathered bell looks like nothing more than a rusty old tin hat

but to me…every time I pull her cord…

she is so much more than that.