Returning to France, our driveway was full of them. At first glance, I may have thought – ugh — but I had to remind myself, that for so many years, growing up on Van Dyke Road, I was one of them, joyfully one of them — these gravel weeds. 

We blossomed wild on this dusty road. As strong as the earth below our kicking and pedaling feet. As free as the cloud that tried to keep up behind our tracks. And maybe we found such joy in our status because anchoring us all was the tallest of the Van Dyke Road weeds, Jim Norton. Lanky and strong, ever, he gave us, me, a reason to believe that we were something special. That we had a place here. A purpose. Almost willing us, daring us, to stand tall. 

Certainly all of his girls did. All five of them that popped up at the end of this gravel road. I thought they were beautiful. I thought nothing could stop these glorious flowering weeds. Nor me. So we all kept growing. 

It’s not even gravel anymore. But it lives on, in my heart. In my daily direction. And so will he. I’m proud of where I came from. And I’m grateful for those who gave me a reason to be. Thank you, Jim Norton. Heaven joyfully just kicked up a little dust!