A slight departure from my typically long and longing posts.
Progress, perhaps in my not taking of myself quite so seriously fragile and focused. Remembering more the things worth remembering as opposed to those more cumbersome.
I’m in Carolina; but, Georgia’s
The little white house on Peacock Hill. All us cousins spending the night every weekend.
And if we had a “cloud makin’ up over yonder somewhere”
We knew we better hush our mouths.
I go back now on this dark and stormy day that’s gotten more quiet as evening comes and I find us there, all the same as it was.
The thick sky muffled with rain and drumming thud of thunder right now.
My Grandma, “Bama” would have us all sitting on her sofa side by side.
She’d be pacing through the wide open front room to the screened porch to look at the sky, turning from east, west, south, north. Her tiny little fierce frame, checking for bad weather, it was a sight, her task, we sure did respect her.
“God is working! ” she’d say.
It was the only time my granddaddy, “Dan Dan” wasn’t giving us hell from his recliner about one thing or the other or asking my cousin Stephanie, to rub his feet. Which she always did.
If you’re my cousin or my sibling, I feel you right there with me now sitting on the setee trying not to let our legs touch. Knowing not to make a peep, get tickled or pass gas.
But, if someone did…Dan Dan would shake his head and smile that rascal smile and say, “I’d give a dollar to make a fart like that.”
Good thing he couldn’t, cause if he did, he’d say “There’s a kiss for you.” and we’d have all fell all over one another, cackling our heads off!
Stormy now in Carolina and because of Georgia, I’m sittin’ still, checkin’ from the porch and I’m smiling in the remembering of God working.
Keeping quiet, watching the weather and thinking it’s a good time to say a prayer.
God is working, Bama told us so.