Last night I got a call from one of my bloggy besties. I knew what she was going to ask…”what were the four words?” The conversation ended with her calling me a “pain in the ass”…and not just once…but she did it with great affection. I won’t name names, but you know who you are, Deb.
My grandparents did not have ten acres of land but my oldest daughter and her husband do. It is a “long” property and is divided by a barbed wire fence. Behind the fence is called “the back five.”
The property that Loser will inherit as soon as Drunken Hines dies, is nestled in the mountains of South Carolina. He always talked about building “our house” there after he retired. I only visited the property twice. He never bothered to tell me something about it until we were getting divorced. That “something” was that the property has long been rumored to be “haunted.”
When I went the second and last time to help him cut up a log, he told me. It was indeed eerie when I noticed that there were no birds flying around, no squirrels jumping from tree limbs and there were no mosquitoes. That part of the story is true.
My grandparents’ house really was in the mountains of North Carolina. The description of every single room in their house is accurate. The description of the outhouse is accurate. The reference to my pet lizard, regretfully, is true.
As soon as my mama paid off her house, she gave it to my oldest sister with the caveat that she could still live there. After years of neglect, the roof started leaking, the plumbing was clogged and some beams outside were rotting. My sister called me and asked if I could help. I told her that I could most likely fix everything that was wrong and for her to get the supplies and have her son take them to the house. I told her I would drive up that weekend to get started. She asked me who was going to pay for the supplies. When I said “you,” she said she didn’t have any money. I told her that I didn’t have any either. She said “but (Loser) does.” When I asked her if she really expected Loser to pay for the repairs of a house that she owned, she said “it would be for mama.” Ummm….no.
After I refused, she decided to sell the house so I bought it. Mama moved into a building that had been converted to apartments for old people on a fixed income. From a window in her apartment, her house could be seen. I have always hoped that she didn’t know.
The house had a basement that my daddy had literally dug with a shovel. The washing machine and dryer were down there so one day while I was doing laundry, I decided to explore. There was an area under the front porch that hadn’t been completely dug out. I crawled on top of the dirt and found a shoe. The more I dug, the more shoes I found. I found twenty-eight shoes…all different styles and sizes.
The part of the story about a “shoe graveyard” under the house is true.
The “stone” has great meaning. That meaning is and will forever be known only to me.
I will never reveal the four words.