to go on vacation and I was stranded? Herb was gone and I was in the middle of the mountain countryside. The last house I had seen was more than a mile away. I looked at my cell and saw only one bar. It needed to be charged. This was worrisome. I sat down on the swing swaying back and forth, wondering what to do. I sat there for a long time, contemplating my next move.
I finally stood up and walked around the porch, peering into every window. I was curious. Gingham printed curtains lined one window; another was covered with lace sheers. It was a challenge to see inside, the curtains were covering the view. What I could see, I liked. The house had a warm feeling like there was life and love in it. I decidedly walked down the steps toward the garage. It was separated from the house. An old structure, it had small glass windows in the garage door. I stood on my tippy toes trying to see what was inside. I felt intrusive, but I was curious, too curious to just sit and wait. An old teal green Chevy in pristine condition was parked inside. I couldn’t tell what model it was. It looked like it was from the 1970’s. Cows mooed in the pasture across the road. I watched them for a few minutes. It was rare for me to see cattle. Cow pastures are nonexistent in Tampa. The cows ate constantly, unaware of me staring at them.
I walked toward the back of the house, discovering a small pond. I wanted to jump in it but decided against it once I saw the murkiness of the water. I would never have jumped in a lake in Florida. Alligators and water moccasins made every lake in Florida their permanent home. I never swam in them, the bottom was too gross, full of plants and weeds and other things that felt slimy. I looked again at the pond inundated with lily pads, watching as tiny fish swam aimlessly. I sat on the ground with my knees to my chest, my arms wrapped around them. Taking my shoes off, I allowed my feet to breathe and rest from the last 24 hours. I sat there for a long time and thought, wondering what was going to happen next.
I stood up, picking up my shoes and carrying them in both hands, and walked barefoot toward the front of my grandparents’ home. It felt good to walk in the grass. Even the ground felt different. The soil was clay rather than sand. The blades tickled my feet, feeling like silk as I brushed my feet against them them on the ground. It felt so different than the sharp St. Augustine blades of grass that I was used to: grass that could never be walked on in bare feet for fear of fire ant bites. I sat down on the wooden swing, stained in a beautiful mahogany. The warm breeze blew gently on the back of my neck that was speckled with beads of sweat. I swayed back and forth, still lost in thought. The sun was starting to set. The sky was clear and cloudless, almost a perfect shade of orange and blue.
The loud noise from the truck startled me. It smelled like exhaust and sounded like a semi-truck but instead was a small truck that had seen its fair share of heartache. The engine roared its way into the driveway. The person driving was unconcerned with following a speed limit. The truck sped through the gravel driveway, rocks flying everywhere. Squirrels ran for their lives trying to avoid being hit. I worried the truck was going to slam into the outdoor garage as fast as it was going. It came to an abrupt stop, the engine cut. Out came an older petite woman with very short, salt and pepper hair. She was wearing jeans that were rolled up to her ankles with red tennis shoes and a pink Lilly’s Diner t-shirt. She had a small, delicate face. Her buttermilk complexion was smooth and had few wrinkles. Looking at her, I could see the resemblance. I was seeing a future vision of myself.
She walked hesitantly toward me, skeptically. She looked at me curiously, probably wondering why a teenage girl lingered on her porch in the early evening. I stood up, moving slowly toward her.
“Hey there,” she said uncertainly. “Can I help you?” she asked. She looked at me like