I shoved my key into the lock in the front door and turned it. It wouldn’t open. I tried again. It still wouldn’t open. I wiggled and jiggled the key, but it didn’t work. The door refused to open. As I stood in front of it, I realized that for the first time in 45 years, I had nowhere else to go. That was not a pleasant experience. At all.

Let me back up a little here. This happened right after we had bought my dad’s place. Prior to that, Tim and I had bought my parents’ house and remodeled it. So, I had lived in that house for all of my life.

I don’t think it’s a southern thing as much as it is a rural thing.

When I was growing up, having conversations while being parked in the middle of the road wasn’t that uncommon. We didn’t have cell phones yet, so if you saw somebody you knew, you put your vehicle in park and you visited for a spell.

The people who happened to drive upon them, knew what was going on. Usually they would stop and wait for the exchange to end. I’m sure they had done the same themselves many times.

It’s a good thing we don’t have to make our own clothes any more. My family and I would be in big trouble. Unfortunately, I didn’t inherit my mom and Mamaw Jo’s ability to sew.
Technically, they were talented seamstresses, especially Mamaw Jo.

You would think my papaw’s barn was some kind of tourist attraction.

Whenever any of my cousins or friends came over to play, they usually asked if we could go to the barn. To be honest, I didn’t want to go there. To me it was a stinky place that I tried to avoid.

I even heard stories from my cousins who were my mom’s childhood playmates. And guess what? They all wanted to play in the barn too. Their favorite thing was to jump out of the loft and onto the hay. I have to admit, that does sound like fun, but it’s something my mom would have never let me do.

I didn’t expect to see Tim at all, but God had other plans.

My good friend Gwen and I stood on the sidewalk in front of the high school. We were waiting on our school bus that was running late due to mechanical problems. All of our friends who had vehicles had already left. Or so we thought.

I love paths. I just don’t see a trail. I see an adventure waiting at the other end.

Some of my childhood friends and relatives had paths around where they lived. I loved it when we scampered down those dirt trails. Being the imaginative child I was, I envisioned all kinds of wondrous places and creatures along those paths.

Of course reality was different. One time I followed my friend and her little brother up a path on the side of a ridge and behind their house. I fell and tangled with a fence. I lost, so I came back bleeding.

I saw it on a TV commercial when I six years old and had a conniption fit.

As most of you know by now, I was such a little tomboy. But I was a tomboy who loved ballerina stuff. There, I admitted it.

Now I wasn’t into ballet itself. What I loved was what the ballerinas wore. I loved their dresses, especially the tutus. I also loved their shoes and tiaras. Actually, I called them “little crowns.”

I still say it was the ants’ fault.

A few years ago, we were visiting some relatives in Ormond Beach, Fla. On every trip, we have a tradition of driving south to Pirate’s Cove Miniature Golf in Daytona. It’s a lot of fun and they have pirate trivia signs everywhere. Who knew pirates could be so interesting?

I simply can’t help it. Whenever we drive by a country church, I look for a homecoming shed and wonder if they still use it. Then my mind goes back to my childhood.

Like most kids, I looked forward to certain dates with anticipation: Christmas, birthdays, Field Day at school, and last, but not least, Homecoming at church.

The excitement for me started as soon as I woke up the Sunday morning of Homecoming. We quickly got ready for church and went down to my grandparents’ house. The smell that greeted us at the door was simply heavenly.

Most people wouldn’t consider this to be a fond childhood memory, but I do.

As a child, I was such a tomboy. Actually, I still am, or so I like to think. Anyway, if it was a warm and sunny day, I was running and playing outside. As my Mamaw Jo used to say about me, “I swannie, she goes wide open.” I think that meant I was running with everything I had. If so, she was right, I was.