Closed Eyes On An Old House

Sleep did not come easy the night before Thanksgiving when I was a child.  Maybe even more so on this night than the one that comes a month later.  You know, the one in late December when kids stare up at the sky after the stars come out to see if they can catch a glimpse of a man in a sleigh.  

All year long, I would look forward to Thanksgiving morning when my Mother's side of the family would gather at the "Old House" just a few miles up the road from where we lived.  My mother, her brother and three sisters grew up in that house and it was grand. 

It sat a half mile or so off the road, just beyond a cattle gap that my cousin Melanie and I would lay across, peering beneath the slats looking for turtles. 

A huge oak tree offered shade in the front yard and competed with the wrap-around porch that enveloped the house on two sides.  Rocking chairs, a big porch swing, side tables bearing water stains from the bottom of iced tea glasses, and my Pa Pa's spirit perched atop the porch railing.  I could not see him, but I knew he was there.

So long ago.  

Now and then, I close my eyes so I can see.  

My Grandmother and her daughters and daughter-in-law working in perfect rhythm in the tiny kitchen.  Grandma frying turkey breast in a cast iron frying pan as they chatted about their children and husbands and happenings down at the Baptist Church.  

My Aunt Margie entertaining them with stories about life in the big city.  She worked for Eastern Airlines and lived in New York and lost her country accent about a week after she moved there.  She never married so all her nieces and nephews were her "kids".  We were in awe of her and all us girls wanted to be just like her when we grew up.

Then there was my cousin, Ruth Ann.  Good Lord, she was beautiful.  Not just her face, but her heart. Everything about her.  She had a light and it was as bright as the sun.

My cousin Lance would start a football game and my younger cousin Susan would be our cheerleader.  Her brother, Carson, ran on strong legs to catch a pass and reached with his arms and cradled that ball to his chest.  He ran.  And he was free.

A few years later, when he was 24, he was driving our grandmother and his mother home from South Florida when a tractor trailer jackknifed, changing our world in a split second.  He was the only survivor and has been in a wheelchair since that awful day.

Gone now are my Daddy, my Uncle Lawrence and Aunt Ida.  My Grandmother, my Aunt Margie and my youngest cousins' father, my Uncle Reuben.  

A few years ago, Ruth Ann was living in the Old House.  She went to church on a Wednesday night and a bad man was waiting, hiding, and he unleashed all the hatred in his evil, black heart when she got home.  As if to satisfy the very demons in hell he'd join a few years later, he then set fire to that house and it burned long into the day that followed.

She died inside that place we all loved so. 

And nothing was ever the same.

Last night I woke up as I often do and could not get back to sleep.  So in the wee, dark hours of this Thanksgiving morn, I closed my eyes and went back to those woods.  

And there it was.  Standing proud against a November sky.  

I sat down on that big porch swing and heard a car in the distance on that narrow dirt road.  It crossed the cattle gap, dust swirling behind it, and then came another.  And more still. Relatives I hadn't seen in years, and some I saw not so long ago.  

My Daddy hugged me tight and I held on for as long as my mind would let me.  I was a child again and my Mother was young and her memory was sharp.

Aunt Joyce played the piano and Aunt Judy sang, her beautiful voice riding on the air, filling every room.  

All us kids running in and out of that old screened door. Through the house, out the back and around again. 

My Grandmother lit the stove and soon the house smelled like a holiday.

Aunt Margie opened her suitcase and it was filled with trinkets for her "kids".  

Carson caught a pass and ran it in for a touchdown.

Ruth Ann, sweet, sweet Ruth Ann lit up the room with her smile.

And we were so warm.

Melanie and I ran to the cattle gap to search for turtles and I looked back over my shoulder.  The house was still there and I stared at it for the longest time until I was on the edge of a dream and I heard a whisper.  "Any time you want to see it, all you have to do is close your eyes"...