I turn over and try to focus my eyes on the digital clock by my bed. It’s 6:30. As my sleep-drugged mind tries to get itself organized, adrenaline kicks in. It’s Thursday so we will be treated to a visit from four young men. I struggle to get my feet to the floor as quickly as this old body will allow. I have about thirty minutes until the boys (Josh will be first) come to check in.
Dubbed “Trash Talk,” Thursday mornings have been cherished by the boys. Thursday is the day the garbage trucks roll down Kitten Creek Road, giving the boys the opportunity to haul garbage cans in an ATV trailer from their homes to the road and have some quality time to chat. Seeing them gathered along the road, talking, laughing, and enjoying every precious minute is quite a sight.
Since they were old enough to push, drag, or haul the trash cans to the edge of Kitten Creek Road, these four boys have been serendipitously meeting every Thursday morning.
Cousins! Born within months of each other, they share a bond that combines laughter, quarrels, creativity, and healthy competition. They call themselves the Kitten Creek Gang.
As grandparents, Judd and I have been fortunate to witness the beautiful growth of our four grandchildren here on Kitten Creek. Caleb, the oldest of these four, and Josh, the youngest, live in the old farmhouse directly across from our home. Obadiah and Malachi, the middle two, live down the lane past our house and across the creek. Homeschooled, their times were controlled by diligent moms who insisted on school work before play, so time together was precious and had to be earned.
Judd and I would watch from the kitchen window as the boys stood along the side of the road and talked, laughed, gestured, and sometimes pushed and wrestled, obviously enjoying every minute. In the first few years, if they lingered too long, we would get a call from a mom saying, ” Can you tell the boys they must come home? It’s time to start school.” When we relayed the message, the boys would immediately scatter, and trash talk would be over for the week.
While some things have changed over the years, “Trash Talk” on Thursday mornings remains a beloved tradition. These days, the boys (14-16 years old) have acquired a bit more autonomy. We can count on all four gathering around our kitchen table for an Oreo and maybe a glass of milk while the “trash talk” continues, usually involving trucks, motors, or cars they are working on.
We realize this is a season. It won’t be long before the boys are grown and scattered, just as their older siblings have done. College, marriage, work, and life will take them far from Kitten Creek. They all have left indelible memories. The beauty of the generations and the creative gift of each individual always leave me almost speechless with thankfulness. Thank you, God, for this chapter of our blessed life!