Yesterday I Rode By an Old House

Yesterday I drove by an old house, roof on the front porch sagging, windows gone. It sat so lonely in the middle of a farm field, freshly plowed. A bulldozer and some farm machines immobile behind it. A vision flashed into my mind of a family that lived there when it was new. 

Back from a hard day of work on the farm, Henry walked up the walkway to the house he had built with his own two hands. He looked up at the window as he took off his hat and slapped it across his thigh. A cloud of dust flew out in front of him. He wasn’t sure where more of the dust came from, his hat or his jeans. He smiled to himself. 

He was a jolly man with a great sense of humor and he truly enjoyed farming. He loved working in the dirt. He loved the feeling of aching muscles earned from working his land. He loved seeing the plants grow and he loved being caretaker for the fields of beautiful bounty. 

He climbed the stairs, spitting a big glob of thick, dark liquid into a spittoon set outside the screen door. He looked back at the sky then turned back and spit once more, getting his money’s worth. He spit out the hunk of chew from the pouch of his lip, sucked his mouth together, gathering the remaining juice and fiber still in his mouth, and spit one last time before opening the screen door and stepping inside. Something smelled delicious.

“Well, Ma, what’s for supper tonight? I could eat a horse, but wouldn’t want to lose old Ninny back there. Haha!” he said as he lifted the back of his hand up to his mouth as if telling a secret. He walked into the kitchen and wrapped his arms around the waist of a plump woman standing at the stove, stirring. He took in a deep sniff of air from over her shoulder. “Whew-ee Mama, that sure smells like it will put some hair on my chest.” He laughed and hugged her close before releasing her and pulling up a chair to the table. 

“Pa. Now you know you ain’t allowed at my table with those dirty clothes on. Git yourself upstairs and wash up and change. You got plenty of time ’til the stew’s done.” She turned and smiled at him with womanly guile, a twinkle of love in her eyes. 

He stood up, shook his head slowly, and with a look of adoration in the woman’s direction, he said, “Well, Ma, you sure got me wrapped around your little pinky finger”. She winked at him, then turned back to the pot on the stove and continued stirring.