Take Me Home, Country Roads

Lil Bit grew up in a two bedroom, one bathroom house down by the river on a red dirt road.

And to this day she is happiest on dirt roads.

She loves backroads. The more off the beaten path the better. And it has always been this way.

I can remember trips to my grandparents as a kid where we were expected for lunch at high noon (it was the LAW that noon and not a second later was when you ate) and we would be late every time because Momma had turned off the main road and we a) had to stop to grab a neat rock, b) had to back up to see the dogwoods, c) saw tons of turkeys, or d) got stuck & I had to walk cross country to the house to get Grandpa to pull us out with the tractor or e) all of the above. It happened so much that when family would ask Grandma and Grandpa when Momma would be there, their stock response was "when you see the whites of her eyes."

I was late to school so many times as a kid because Momma had gotten distracted by a bird, or a flower or a horse and decided to take detour to see more that the school secretaries had a laminated tardy pass with my name typed in that was kept under the intercom speaker so I could just grab it and go to class.

And who can forget learning to drive a stick shift on a dark country road that Momma had chosen. She's giving you pointers and directions home and just when you had it figured out - the suburban, you, the three dogs in back seat and Lil Bit are all dumped headfirst into a creek, because the bridge is out. She had forgotten that fun fact, had told you to floor it so you could practice shifting into higher gears and to turn that way.

In her golden years it's no different. You'll be driving along on a county highway and she will point and say turn there.

Then turn here. Turn left at the third cedar and then right at Old Man Smith's barn - like you know who Old Man Smith is - yeah that Old Man Smith who let you ride his prize Hereford bull when you were two and Old Man Smith was already approaching seventy - and then a hard u-turn at the barn where you fell and cut your head (there were a lot of them and can't quite keep all the cuts and concussions straight).

But I digress and get lost like we do on the backroads Momma loves.

It's at this point that I think we are so lost that I will soon hear banjos strumming and Ned Beatty Jr. squealing. But as my anxiety rises I notice something interesting happening with Lil Bit.

With every twist and turn on the country road it seems like you are turning back the clock a bit - you can see the girl inside the old woman. She gets a sparkle in her eye and begins to tell stories from these roads when she was young.

Tales of fish caught, horses ridden, sunrises on the river and so many other moments that helped make her the woman she is. Some you have heard and many you have not.

I've learned so many things about my mom on country roads - tales of her childhood and her family, the dreams she achieved and the ones forgotten, the disappointments and the hurts, and her hopes for me. I've also been reminded of things from my past that I had forgotten - the good, the bad, the ugly and the scary. Each story unfolding leisurely as the miles pass and the dust clouds rise behind the car.

As the sun sets and the twilight comes, I roll down the windows to the night air - fragrant with the smell of fresh-cut alfalfa and filled with the sound of cicadas and tree frogs - and the night feels warm and comforting not dark and foreboding like it normally does.

As I turn down the last country road of the day to take us home, Lil Bit reaches for my hand and says thank you for a great day - then points to turn here because this way is a "short cut" home.