Go with me to Milo...

Last week, as you all know, was a tough week for me. One of the first things I do when I get off-center is get grounded again...I go home.

I did just that last Friday evening. As I headed north toward Milo, my car seemed to switch to auto-pilot, and I seemed to start breathing a little easier. The day was lovely, cooler but still a bit hazey. As I drove past all of the home places that have been indelibly etched into my mind, I recalled fond memories of the people who live, or in some cases, lived there once upon a time. I saw Shorty in his garden...Mamaw and Papaw's old house place...my great grandmother's old home place, too.

As I approached my first destination, my aunt's home, I remember all the times my cousins and I would play in that front yard. They had the only trampoline in the family, so of course we wore the springs off it. Games like "King Cobra" and "D. Faye" come to mind. One of our favorite things to do was spin 45's on the portable record player, under the concrete carport, and roller skate through an "obstacle course" created entirely of work and gum boots. My skates were electric blue with bright yellow/gold stripes, gold wheels, and glitter gold laces. I was the shiznit.

My grandmother now lives behind my aunt's house. I stopped to see her, and she greeted me at the door, fly swatter in hand. It reminded me of how her husband, my papaw, would spend most of the spring and summer months with a fly swatter permanently attached to his hand. He would suck his teeth in frustration, and kill flies. He hated them with a fury, and killed them non-stop. I told mamaw, "Walcie lives!" She just laughed, and we visited about this and that for the next hour or so.

We then made our way to the back yard to check out Nanie's vegetable garden. She has everything you can imagine in a tiny garden...squash, tomatoes, peppers, rosemary, sage, cucumbers, zuchini. She managed to load me up with some of everything before I left, man I love being country. Mamaw and I hadn't been outside very long when up drove my aunt. I helped her get the groceries inside, and said hi to Uncle James.

Now, James M., as we call him, promptly got up, put on his boots and came outside. He motioned for me to speak to him, so I walked over and he said, "Baby, you wanna go fer a buggy ride?" Well, naturally, I did. Now, a buggy is what most people would call a surrey, or a one-horse drawn open carriage. We walked to the barn, and Uncle caught his 8 year old horse, Bob. We geared ole' Bob up with all his tack, hitched him to the buggy, and off we went. Bob knows his business, probably because Uncle worked for hours with him, in the round pen, then letting him practice pullng a skid. Either way, the ride was smooth as silk.

We made our way up Springhill Road, and then turned south onto my dad's road. We waved and hollered at lots of neighbors, something you could never do from the seat of your car, or a motorcycle. Everything....just...slowed....down....it was amazing the things I saw that I was going too fast to notice before. Wildflowers in the road ditch, the neighbors yards filled with summer color, the perfectly kept vegetable gardens. I soaked it all in as we clip-clopped up the road. Stopped at dad's house for a minute, just to hack him off (he couldn't go, buggies a two-seater), then turned around at Mr. Ed's house. Of course he came boiling out the front door to chat, moving all of 2 miles per hour. We chatted for a moment, then headed back.

Saw Boo on the road, and he wound up back at my Aunt's house. Then we visited with dad and Hank for a bit, then I stopped by to see my sister for a much needed loooooong catch-up talk. I needed to touch base, recharge, get grounded.....heck, I needed to go home. And indeed, there is no place exactly like it.