Wednesday, November 2, 2016

The Pebbled Road

When I was a child I would walk barefoot up and down a pebbled road
It was a bit of of a jaunt to my Aunt Mattie's house
There were fragrant lilac bushes along the side of the road
I sometimes would stub my toe on a rock
It hurt like hell and it bled to the ground
I cried my eyes out and felt sorry for myself
Seems I would learn but I don't like shoe's in the summertime
By the time I got there I had dried my tears and forgotten about it for awhile
I could smell her wood burning kitchen stove and the peanut butter cookies baking in the oven
I walked right in her front door and she sat me down and looked at my toe
She wrapped it with a cloth made from a sheet and tied it on the top
I saw the cookies cooling and she saw I wanted one
It was the best I'd ever tasted to this day
Then I went to the bedroom and sat upon her bed
She had reserved a old purse for me to go through with lipstick in the pouch and a handkerchief too
I reached up to get the beautiful bottle off the dresser top which was full of very fragrant perfume
There was an old Victorian Victrola in the corner of the room and I played the records for hours
The sounds and voices were crackled but that was the way it was back then
We never tired of each other's company because we were lonely souls
My Uncle Onie died when I was very young
That was her husband and love
I heard stories of his genuine heart and he actually held me a time or two
There was an old horse buggy parked in the barn and I would go sit on the seat and ride in my mind
The old well in her front yard had a pump and she always had fresh water for me and her cooking and drinking it was a delight from an old mason jar at times
The springtime brought mushrooms around her house but only if it had rained
We walked further down the pebbled road til it became a grassy path
Remember my son , Mike in later years was visited by her in Spirit
He had gone down the road and he saw a white image
When he got home he described her to a T . He was not afraid but it is a family trait.
Oh the memories I have of the early sixties and walking up and down the pebbled road to my beautiful wonderful Aunt Mattie's house.

~ Becky Lee ~

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