they looked at me curiously. Her daughter asked her a question. Elizabeth said something to her and then smiled at me, waving goodbye. They appeared to be a loving family. She had offered to drive me to my grandparents but I told her no. I didn’t want to impose and I knew I needed to meet them on my own. I was unsure how they would react towards me and didn’t want my reunion with them to be witnessed by someone I had just met. I called another cab company and waited at the bus station watching people meet their loved ones wondering if my reunion with my grandparents would be the same. I wasn’t thrilled about riding in another cab, in fact I dreaded it. But there wasn’t any other way to get to where I was headed.
The cab arrived. It was old, like its driver, Herb. He spoke with a thick southern accent and his long, white mustache curled at the ends. He had a long drawl that made him a little difficult to understand. He chewed tobacco and spit into an empty Coke bottle every so often. I read him the return address that had been written on the envelope my grandparents sent.
“Graceville’s where I play bingo. I think I can gauge where that is,” he said and took my lone suitcase and placed it in the trunk. He opened the back door and closed it. Country music played on the radio. A Jesus Saves air freshener hung from the rear view mirror. Thankfully, this cab didn’t smell like onions. Instead it smelled like pipe tobacco and evergreens.
Herb was very chatty. He talked about anything, nothing of importance, nothing I could really understand. I barely said a word, only an “uh huh” or “yes” here and there, but that didn’t seem to bother him. I learned about the town of Graceville, when it had been established, and why it was called Graceville.
“John Brown and his wife Grace were the first inhabitants. He named the town after her,” he said and then spit into his Coke bottle.
He knew all sorts of facts about the upstate of South Carolina. A native, Herb had never lived anywhere else, and was proud of his heritage. “I gotta stop and get me some more chew, you mind?” He turned to face me, still driving. I would have normally been nervous that he wasn’t facing the road, but there wasn’t a car in sight, the road was empty.
“That’s fine,” I said trying to smile. What else could I say? He was driving the car.
We drove down Main Street which ran directly through the town. I felt like I had stepped back in time and entered the set of an old movie. A large white gazebo stood in the middle of the town’s square. Main Street was tree lined and full of red brick storefronts. The town was quaint and historic with a strong feeling of nostalgia. An old man sat in a rocking chair waving at us. It took me by surprise. I wasn’t accustomed to people being so friendly. I waved back at him and smiled. We drove further down the road, toward the town limits. Herb parked the cab in front of the RX, a local drugstore. I sat in the cab listening to the country music. It felt like hours. Herb had obviously stopped to chat with someone.
Needing to stretch, I got out of the cab and walked down the sidewalk toward the community pool. The pool could be seen from the main road. It was adjacent to the Graceville community center. A wrought iron fence surrounded it. The pool was full of children and adults. The summer heat must have made it a popular place to go. The cool water looked enticing. I wiped the sweat off of the back of my neck and watched as several children splashed each other. Their voices carried from a far distance. They were having the time of their lives. I envied them for their pure delight, for their ability to not have a care in the world. I watched as a very tan boy, who looked about my age, walked to the high dive, standing confidently at the top. One of the kids shouted something at him. He looked down at the kid and smiled and then he dove into the pool diving the most beautiful swan dive. He made it look so effortless and graceful. I couldn’t dive and so badly