“Lucy Loooooo, I’m not feelin’ this!” We parked at the bottom of the hill. “West Viriginia, Mountain momma, take me home….. back to Detroit!” He sang a lil’ ditty, started the car, backed up a few feet and laughed.
I gently smacked his leg. “How’d you think I felt when I met your momma, Alonzo? Oh, make me wanna holler and throw up both my hands.” I returned the musical favor, raised my arms, wrapped them around his neck and gave him a big ole’ tight hug. “Yep, I had the blues.”
I was just kidding, so was he. That’s what I loved about us.
“Where’s the house?” He joked. I didn’t admit that was actually a good question.
My daddy walked out of the time-weathered shed. I rolled down the squeaky window. “Daddy boy, where’s the house?”
Alonzo’s face dropped. “You serious? I know we’re leaving now!”
“Nooooo.” I pleaded with him.
“Your momma burned it down last winter making her famous possum stew.” He stopped, lit a match, stuck it to the tobacco in his pipe, puffed on it a few times and oddly advanced in our direction. His steps were out of place, his legs bent sideways at the knee with each move he made.
I turned to Alonzo and threw the car in reverse.
“That’s not my father, and my mother doesn’t make stew! Go!” I screamed!
We fled backwards, down the incline doing about sixty, the car was bouncing all over the place. I began to laugh so hard that tears rolled down my cheeks.
“Stop!” I yelled. “The house is back yonder.” I pointed across the green valley. “This was just a little nice to meet you gag – I get it from my daddy.” I danced in my seat.
“I hate that I love you!” Reggie scoffed.
Leesa Writes 