Thoughts on West Confederate Avenue

Before I talk about my thoughts, I need to tell someone, anyone, whoever is out there, that my beloved Mom passed away on May 14, 2009. She was only 64 and died peacefully in her sleep. It was completely unexpected and I am having a very difficult time dealing with this loss. I live 2 1/2 hours away from my family and being here and not there, where everyone is having to pick up the pieces, I am here, in Gettysburg, trying to pick up the pieces in my life....alone. My thoughts have been anywhere but here. So....9 days after her death....I dedicated this post to my Mom!

Now, on to West Confederate Avenue. I drove through there yesterday morning around 7-7:30 am. My favorite time on the battlefield is the early morning hours. The park opens at 6am but due to my work schedule, the earliest I can hit the fields is around 7. While driving through, one thing that I notice, as I notice every morning when I drive through the park, is the lack of people. It's just me, my thoughts, and the battlefield. Occasionally I run across someone jogging or walking their dog, but they are obviously enjoying the solitude as I am.

I drove along the road noticing the cannon. Most of the cannon are still where they have been, but the barrels of these guns are missing. The reason? Well, the park is taking everyone of those cannons off the field and restoring them. They are doing a great job, too....but it seems to be taking forever. The cannons in the Wheatfield (belonging to Winslow's Battery) returned after a three year absence. Somehow, you just don't understand the magnitude of the cannonade when the guns are missing. But I applaud the park for restoring them and making them look great!

Another thing that I notice in my drive is the trees. I love forests and birds. While driving through, I look up through my sunroof and see the canopy of trees over me and can hear the birds singing. The birds always seem to sing loudest in the early morning hours...another reason I love the am. Woodpeckers abound in these woods and I could sit and watch them for hours. They are also quick to fly right in front of your car and I've seen a few in the road, after having been hit.

But the one thing that I notice most is the fogginess. Now, I realize that because some of the land that Pickett's Charge took place on is in low-lying areas and low-lying areas attract fog, but somehow the fog has a sadness to it. The sadness seems to be crying out for those who lost their lives that fateful day back in 1863. I can't help but wonder about that 19 year old from North Carolina, who left his mother and possibly a girl or the farm that won't be tended to. Or how about the 27 year old from Virginia who not only left behind his wife but those three little ones that their love produced. Who will be the one to pick up the pieces and help them carry on? And there are so many others.

I often wonder about these men. But when I drive around the park in the early morning, my thoughts return to those men, over and over, moreso than any other time of the day. Hmmmm...I wonder why.