Carson’s Path

Supplement Story II:
Carson’s Path
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I fell asleep down by the river again…

It was his favorite spot. No matter what time of day it was, the trees created a canopy which blocked out any unwanted sun. The grass was lush, wild, and just a bit damp. His neck could feel the little blades tickling him, as if they wanted to get his attention. That breeze – it was perfect! – the way it rolled off of the calm river water and swept over him, playing with his hair and sending the dark strands dancing across his forehead. A content sigh escaped his lips as he enjoyed the refreshing air. At this spot, no matter his troubles, he could lie under the trees, on the grass, near the river and simply be a boy.

Just as sleep had overcome him, a warm hand found its way to his face. His dark eyes fluttered open to see a delicate girl hovering over him. He couldn’t help but lean into her soft hand caressing his face, and his thin lips twisted into a satisfied smile. This comfortable spot just got more delightful. If there was ever any person he had wanted to see it was her. To him, she was perfect. Others didn’t think so, as he clearly remembered his friend saying she was too skinny, too fragile; her hair was too brunette, too plain; her eyes were just brown with no life in them; she had no sense of adventure, just devotion; she was just too boring.

Where did his friend get such ideas? Surely he could see that she was of a small frame but full of passion; her hair was a brilliant auburn and flowed effortlessly; her eyes were a deep, loving chocolate and they were for him only; her devotion was pure and honest; and she was certainly imaginative and not boring. Sitting up, he grabbed her hand and turned to face her. She gave him a quick inspection with her eyes and said, “You look handsome.” Goosebumps erupted up his arms and a shiver ran down his spine. Was it because the sound of her voice was full of so much pride? But he knew there was a hint of displeasure in her tone.

“Thank you, Lindsey,” was all he could manage. Despite the fact he wanted to ask if she was upset, he didn’t have the heart to hear it. It was at times like this when he wished the Lord would hear his pleas for help. Though he didn’t doubt the Lord heard, the young lad just wanted some sort of response. Noticing her stares at his new set of clothes, he looked down at himself. The tan khaki fit him well, which was due to his sturdy build. “I guess it looks alright,” he said mostly to himself. “I should have went home and changed, but I wanted to come here first.”

Lindsey could only smile at his attitude. This was a special place for the two of them, full of memories that were sacred to the young couple. She could only pray that they would be allowed to make new memories in the future – ones in which they would be holding hands, talking not of war or civil strife; they would watch their children play, smile, and laugh without being afraid. There was a fear, though, that plagued her. Even if he did return, would he still want to marry her; would he still want to have children with her; would he still be this handsome, sturdy, faithful man she had been blessed with?

“Warren, I -”

“I had this dream,” he interrupted her, jumping to his feet. Slowly, she stood with him, and he grasped her hands and squeezed them affectionately. “It was with you and I, and we walked along Carson’s Path on a warm spring day. When we emerged from the path and found ourselves here, we were greeted by smiling faces. They were children, and although I’ve never met them, I somehow knew them. There were three boys and one girl. The eldest boy ran up to me and he said, ‘Dad, dad! Your home for good, the war is over!’ I looked at you, and saw your smile, and I realized these were our children. But most importantly, I had survived and when I came home, I was greeted by your smiling face, my favorite spot off of Carson’s Path, and our children!”

In his excitement over this dream, he picked her up by her waist and twirled her around three or four times, smiling and laughing. When they came to a stop, he realized that her deep, chocolate eyes were full of a love and hope he had never known. This only made his smile grow. There was no apprehension in his voice when he said, “Lindsey, I need to ask you something.”

Her eyes never left his. “Anything, of course, Warren,” she whispered.

“I’ll understand if you say no. This is more of a favor, than anything. I know that it’s selfish of me, because while I should be asking this with your well-being in mind… Look, it may end up hurting you in the future, because war is such an unpredictable thing. That dream I had – with you and I, and our children – well, I couldn’t ask for anything greater than that. Lindsey, will you let my dream come true?”

The question was asked merely for formality purposes. The couple had known for sometime that eventually they would discuss things such as marriage and children. It wasn’t spoken between the two, but they had thought about it and knew the other had done the same. Of course, then, it wasn’t much of a surprise when Lindsey nodded, with a great big smile and perhaps a faint trace of tears and said, “Yes!”

Warren’s smile grew and he felt as if a heavy weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Instead, a weight was set upon the shoulders of Lindsey. From the moment he left for war some months later, she would have to worry for him. Not only for him, but for the future of their child. If he were to die, whether for the sake of the future or something such as “peace,” would their child benefit from it, or would it be a burden for the young one to face? But for now, in the place of such worries, they had joy and excitement. The war was forgotten and they focused on other things – wonderful things.

He was the son of a minister, and she the daughter of a newspaper editor. They had known each other since they were children, and they were loyal to the Lord. When he left for war, he devoted his life and future to protecting his home. She never broke faith, never questioned the outcomes of any situation.

She saw her eldest son some seventeen or eighteen years later, sleeping near the river; with the wind blowing his dark hair effortlessly; the long grass folding to the shape of his sturdy body; a new khaki uniform and his hat covering his eyes; and a young girl observing her sweetheart’s peaceful face. Never before had she questioned the purpose of her family’s sacrifice. It was the only time in her life did she ever ask the Lord, “Why must all young men fight, and all young girls cry?”