A number of years ago on a summers morning I got this strong hankering to go see the Old Homestead where I grew up. At daybreak I left Monroe and drove south to Jigger. Both Mama an Daddy were years gone, and their old house was vacant and weathering away in neglect and disrepair...When I got to Jigger I turned on the familiar gravel road then up the rutted dirt lane to the old house. It didnt look the same as in my memories. I parked, got out, and ambled up to the front gate. One of the windows facing out was rock-thrown broken, probly by some teenaged twit with dreams of becoming the next Nolan Ryan. Dusty cobwebs hung from the porchs ceiling and dead limbs and twigs were strewn across the rotten-planks floor. Takin my time, I wandered about, takin in the sights...Still propped up on the side of the home was Daddys old-timey TeeVee antennae which would bring in the three not-too-distant stations. The tidy make-shift laundry room Daddy had built on the back of the house was deteriorating, rusty nails pulling loose permitting splits in the wall boards. Over the years windy weather had loosened a couple of tin-sheets on the roof and they were loudly popping in the summer breezes. I ankled out to the front-yard fence where his prideful enormous fig tree still stood, loaded down with green figs, a soon to be feast for area birds. An ancient hill of garlic which Daddy had planted for Mamas kitchen...musta been, oh, probly at least eighty years ago, was blooming still..The old red-handled hand-pump which had caused many blisters and calluses on wash day was rusting away, decorated by years of spiderwebs. Heading back to my ride I stumbled over a huge fire-ant mound all-aglow with scurrying activity. Leg-rubbing crickets were making their obnoxious noises in the tall, untended grass and weeds. The long-uncultivated bob-wahr-fenced-in garden was all-growed-up with weeds and various vegetables gone to seed. I looked back at the old house, memories of my childhood, both good and bad...gave it a thumbs-up for creating almost-forgotten recollections. Recollections of growin-up Memories of days gone by. They SAY you cant go home again....But...I went back home again...And found out It WASNT Home.
Posted on: Tue, 12 Aug 2014 18:08:27 +0000