“Why don’t you come home?” “And where would that be, Grandmother?” “Kentucky, of course.”
Grandmother was constantly worried about me being on the road. She loved hearing about my adventures, all I was experiencing, and the postcard I sent from every town, but she wanted me still. Somewhere safe. She had started to push a little harder each time we spoke. It makes me wonder if somehow she knew what was coming. That’s why she threw out the big punches the last time we spoke. Exasperated from the same conversation I didn’t want to have, I promised we’d talk about it after Tuscaloosa. I’d be there Monday at the latest. I said something funny and changed the topic. Told her I loved her and promised to call from Texas. That was Wednesday. She passed the next morning.
That’s how I ended up here.
Specifically, at the moment, Village Inn in Burgin, Kentucky where they have wifi if they aren’t working on the power lines. Also where you can get dinner with 2 sides, a salad, and bread for under $7. It is a long story.
I told one of my closer friends she was silent on the line for a few minutes before responding with “your book is going to be so good.” Let’s hope so because otherwise I’m concerned I’ll have survived all this crazy for nothing.
In true small town fashion, I had no lack of offers of where to stay until I can be in my house in Danville (part of the long story I can’t talk about yet). The option that was immediately in front of me was a lake house out here in Burgin. Do I remember how to get there? No ma’am, I haven’t been out there since I was 16. Thinking better of it, I caught myself adding that unless I wasn’t supposed to be out there and in that case I’d never been before. As teenagers in a dry county, we were all crafty and had parties creep up in all types of places. I’m sure I had lake houses confused….
There’s no cell signal, no wifi. There’s only one bar in “town” and it isn’t steady. Just peace and quiet. Seems like that’s what my body needed after this week. I slept for 2 days. Granted, yesterday it snowed and the temp hit 24° so leaving the house didn’t hold much appeal anyways. It just felt safe and warm. Not that life on the road is dangerous. Private islands in the Keys isn’t so rough.
Having my car back is exciting, having everything I own back in my possession is even more so. My hairdryer! My expensive face wash! More than a week’s worth of clothes! Lord, how life has changed. On top of all that, I’ll be unpacking it all.
You see, that was what my grandmother asked. Come back to Kentucky to take care of the house until it sells. There’s a lot more to it that I can’t talk about yet, but looks like I’m here for awhile.
Yesterday, when I used the landline to check in one of my calls was to The Barbeque Joint. I told Scott when the snow melts, I’ll head into how to pick up a signal. He joked “so in March?” More like April.
After Cuba, I had intended to spend the rest of the winter months in Costa Rica. I’d picked out a place a couple blocks off the beach with spider monkeys that hung out on the porch. Danville, Kentucky is the exact opposite of that.
Most of all, more than the cold that I despise, I’m scared. Thanksgiving, I returned to Charleston. Bad business kept me there longer than I was ready to stay. My heart hurt still and I itched to be back on the road. Alabama had always been thought of as home, except this last trip it didn’t anymore. That leaves Kentucky. What if being here proves this isn’t home either? Where does that leave me? Dreams of Costa Rica? Plans for Africa? Hopes of baby kangaroos? Come Monday, we’ll find out. Fellow nomads, you’re welcome to stop through. Visitors welcome.
Here’s to having a mailing address.
You’ll have to excuse typos and errors. If I had known there was wifi, I’d have grabbed my laptop. Instead, I was winging waving my phone around in the air.