While Hamilton attends two baseball clinics in the Kansas City area, I decide to take Liberty to some of our favorite spots on a treasure hunt. She enjoyed our trek to the cemetery with Hamilton this morning, so I’ve grabbed a backpack to hold all the treasures we find, an old county map from Memphis’ junk drawer, and a cooler with bottles of water for our adventure.
“Libby,” I call into the front room where she finished reading a book with Memphis a moment ago, “come here, please.”
“Yes, Mommy?” She cranes her head to the side, wrinkles her nose and scrunches her little forehead, her hands on her hips.
I attempt not to laugh at the sassy way she stands, waiting to hear the reason I’ve summoned her. “We’re going on an adventure,” I state. “Here’s our map and our backpack.”
A smile lights up her face as she claps excitedly. “Na-na, too?”
“You can ask her to come along,” I prompt, motioning to the front room. Having already discussed it, I know Memphis plans to come. I’m sure she worries that at six months pregnant, the July heat in Missouri may be too much for me. I really don’t care about her true reason; I’m glad she’ll join us.
Pulling Memphis by the hand, Liberty returns to the kitchen, marching past me to the door. I guess she’s ready to head out. I pass the cooler to Memphis and wear the nearly empty backpack as we exit the house.
“Before we load up in the truck, let’s look at the map.” I encourage Liberty to hold it, loving the twinkle in her eyes at the thought of an adventure.
“We are here.” Memphis places an “X” on the farm’s location with the red Sharpie I pass her. “Can you find the red star?”
Liberty spins the paper map in her hands. Only a few seconds pass before she cheers, “I found it!”
Memphis nods and claps. “That’s where we’ll go first.”
We climb into Memphis’ truck and head down the gravel road. The rearview mirror fills with dusty clouds from the overly dry road. Although, I’m not driving very fast, visibility behind us is slim. I’ve forgotten about this. I might even say I’ve missed living on rural, gravel roads.
Ten minutes pass before I park along the blacktop road near the bridge. I smile, realizing this is a far cry from trying to find a parking spot in Chicago. There’s no need to parallel park here. Memphis assists Liberty from her car seat, map still in one hand.
I point to the red star on the map. “This is the river. Let’s put the map in our backpack, so you can use both hands to find treasures.”
We stand in a small opening that borders the river. I pull the sunscreen from our backpack, and we slather each other up.
“Ready?” Memphis asks, and Liberty cheers.
“Daddy and I used to come down here to the sandbar when we were in school,” I tell Liberty. “We liked to toss rocks into the water, go fishing, or light a fire and camp.” I love how Liberty hangs on my every word.
I place my palm flat on the sand and decide it’s too hot to slip off our shoes. I pick up a funny shaped river rock, extending it to Liberty.
“Look,” I share. “See how this rock is speckled pink and white?”
Liberty nods her head as her tiny fingertips glide along the surface of the golf ball size stone.
“Pwet-ty,” she states.
“Should we place it in our treasure backpack?” I ask, already unzipping the outer pocket.
“Yes!” She hops up and down, rock in hand, waiting for me to unzip.
“Libby, come quick,” Memphis calls from the edge of the water, ten feet away.
Liberty jogs over to see what Na-na has to show her. I pull out my phone, snapping a quick picture of the two treasure hunters. Then, I open my texts and send the photo to Hamilton.
Me: know where we are
Me: we’re treasure hunting
Me: taking her to our favorite spots
“I sent this picture to Daddy.” I extend my phone, displaying the photo of the two of them. “I thought he’d like to see you enjoying his favorite places around Athens.”
“Look here,” Memphis calls, and Liberty scurries to her side again.
I open my camera again, snapping photos of the two as they explore the sandbar.
“Look, Mommy!” Liberty’s excitement is contagious.
In her palm, she holds a snail shell. I snap a closeup photo before we wrap it in a paper towel and tuck it in the backpack. We spread out on the large sandbar in search of our next treasure. I remain near the water line to ensure Liberty doesn’t venture too close.
“Over here,” Memphis calls to us.
She’s sitting on a large log, firmly planted in the sand. It reminds me of the log Hamilton and I sat on at the bonfire his final night in town. It’s where I asked him to do me a favor. I asked him to take my virginity before we headed our separate ways. I still can’t believe I found the nerve to ask him or that he complied. It was the first domino in a long chain reaction that brought us to today.
Memphis assists Liberty in sitting atop the log with legs on either side. I take a picture of just Liberty then suggest Memphis scoot in behind her. After a few more photos, we head back to the truck, pull out the map, and head to the lake.
Our adventure continues with Memphis and me showing her the swimming area. We wade in the warm water at the edge of the lake. We visit Winston at the theater, and, as he gives Liberty a tour, we talk about the movies we watched as kids. At Sonic Drive-In, we order ice cream cones to enjoy as we head back to the farm. I pull over as we hit the end of the lane. For our last adventure, Memphis drives while Liberty and I ride the last quarter mile in the bed of the truck. I film her as the wind whips through her hair. She laughs and squeals as we hit a few bumps, and our bottoms hop from the wheel-hub.
I’ve given our daughter a peek into the life that Hamilton and I shared. I only wish Hamilton could have witnessed it. It’s a life I took for granted and even resented until recently. Now, it’s the life I long to give to our children. I love our life in Chicago and the opportunities it gives our daughter, but I think that life on the farm could make us happy, too.