Sentimental on Saturday | Eastern NC Now

    Publisher's note: Please join me in welcoming Author Michele Rhem, who presents us with her poignant mémoires of the Rabbit Patch, where her diaries weave tales of a simpler, expressive life lost to many, but gathered together in her most familiar environs - the Rabbit Patch.

    At First Light...

    Saturday was as beautiful a morning as the one before it. I went out expecting to find the usual circus of the squirrels in the yard-but no, the yard was as still as it could be. It made me smile to think that maybe the squirrels needed a rest-and it was well-deserved. The birds sang anyway and the sun brightened the yard in lovely increments.

    After a quick breakfast, Will and Jenny went to fetch a load of things from their previous house, and Lyla and I took a stroll. I have been discovering new streets in the Riverside Village. On this day, I found a street full of very old small cottages. They were painted in lively colors and some were adorned with flowered shutters. The exterior trims were ornate and quite appealing. Flowers grew in every yard and there were wind chimes that tinkled in the slight breeze. The yards were small, but were made the most of with all sorts of things growing everywhere. I suspected the residents were lovely folks and very artistic by nature. I loved them for saving the cutest little pieces of history I have seen in a long while.

    By Afternoon...

    The afternoon was as wonderful as the morning though it still warranted a light jacket. Lyla did nap as she ought to. Will worked in the yard and Jenny put things away. Lyla and I managed an early evening walk. We walked past the time of the low slanted sun rays. I started missing my boys-all of them, all at once. This happens to me frequently when I have a nice visit with any one of them. To me, they are a unit and it feels incomplete when we aren't all together, no matter how nicely a visit is going. It is an impossible conflict, other than a few times a year. I understand fully the logistics of the situation, but I am a mother and a mothers' heart feels as it is inclined to do so without any regard to sensibility at times. I was having such a good time and wished the boys were with me, this autumn night.

    When the sun had clearly set and with darkness at our heels, Lyla and I began the walk home. I was in a bit of a hurry and trying to keep my bearings straight. My landmarks are things like the huge magnolia , the house with the white dog or the house with the large lantana bush. Why I do not pay attention to signs is beyond me. It was almost dark and I had decided we were on the right trek, when a lady walking a cute little dog stopped for me to admire him-and I did. She asked if I had seen the moon on the river tonight and was horribly shocked when I said no. She insisted I stop immediately and head in that direction. She convinced me. It felt sinful not to take advantage of what she had described as the "the most beautiful moon that ever was". So, taking a sharp right, we headed for the river. I smelled supper cooking in the homes and felt like I accurately named their fare several times. Lights in the windows were shining brightly and muffled voices could be heard as windows were being shut. It made me happy to see families safely gathered.

    When the moon on the river came in to sight, I was not the least bit sorry I had met the lady with the little dog. Lyla and I were the only ones at the rivers' edge and we watched the moon shining in silence. I thought of Alfred Noyes and his beautiful description of moonlight-"the road was a ribbon of moonlight". I also thought that this moon was shining on my sons and it comforted me to think of it like that.

    On the way home, I declared this Saturday to be one to remember and so I tucked the memory deep in my heart-where such things are kept.