Caught Between a Rock and a Hard Place | Eastern NC Now

    Publisher's note: Please join me in welcoming Author Michele Rhem, who presents us with her poignant memoirs 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.

    The bone chilling rain is about to wind down, it seems. But for just a few measly degrees, it would have been snow. Southern folks either love the rare event of snow or hate it - I love it. The early service, at the rabbit patch was quite uneventful, on account of the rain . . . unless you consider, that light came to the world- and with it a host of opportunities. I thought about this in the silver silence, for the mockingbird did not sing today.

    Two birthdays happened this week. My son Kyle had a birthday on December seventh. Kyle is my fourth child. I adopted Kyle from Colombia South America. He was just two years old. Kyle is a hard worker and handsome too. Kyle has to be outside despite the conditions. My Kyle was a rascal as a young boy. He "sold" the neighbors all sorts of things I had sent him to deliver. Things like cake and hand me down childrens' clothes. Once, he put Christian in a wagon and collected donations for some operation that was bound to come up. He tied a tricycle behind a neighbors' truck, and convinced him he needed a new transmission, for a short while. Thankfully, I had kind neighbors, who were amused with his antics and did not hold grudges.

    One Christmas, many years ago I did not have any money for Santa. My husband had died, and I was barely keeping the lights on. I called my children together and told them I could not help Santa this year. The pain of that moment, is still remembered. How, I thought could such wonderful children, not have a Christmas with at least a gift. Brant was around twelve, and was the oldest. Brant said "Mama, could you just help Santa for the little boys?" Tres and Jenny loved the idea and agreed with all their little hearts. I was overcome and fighting outright bawling. I was so deeply touched and thought how pure my children were-and right as I thought "my children are perfect" . . .Kyle piped up and said "That could work!" Oh, my Kyle -lest I became haughty, saved me! Rest assured we had a merry Christmas, after all-and Kyle saved his money, and bought me a bar of soap!

    My sister, Delores had a birthday on December eighth. I was an almost red haired child with freckles and then Delores was born who was a pretty child, with blue eyes and the cutest little face. We were friends, and partners . In the summer, we spent hours under the grapevines with our dolls. In the winter, we played in the woods. In the rain we played in the barn. Delores was the perfect companion for childhood. We were known to pull hair and would scrap like naughty boys, on occasion, however. Once, Delores was riding a pony in a parade, she and I were having just outside the backdoor. I was playing a dime store flute that made an unnatural sound. The pony took to jumping about. Delores was pleading with me to stop-but instead I played louder. The pony, finally started bucking and threw Delores off. Delores got up and marched over to me in a rage. She literally knocked the breath out of me. We had those moments and many more like them, but Delores believed in me and made feel important - that does a lot for a child. The same can be said today. Delores remains a devoted and loyal sister.

    Today, is a far cry from a birthday celebration at the rabbit patch. Clean laundry is on the kitchen table, folded to be put away. The laundry must share the kitchen table with the presents bought on Wednesday. The counter is full of the clean Avon decanters and somewhere are the "white" books. I am painting the built in shelves so that order will be restored, shortly and the glass and books can "go back to where they live". The hall remains the only "walk in" closet, I have ever had, due to the roll of carpet in the bedroom floor. . .and we have "company coming". For months, the house and yard were in pristine condition. Now that I have torn up the floor in the bedroom, several prospected buyers want tours. I turned down the first few thinking it was an awful time-now I have decided to let them all come. We are making improvements, after all . It is a bit ironic that every leaf is off of every tree and lying all over the territory as well. Selling a house, is not for the faint of heart. What a nuisance it is, to have kept order for so long , only to be caught "between a rock and a hard place". . .however, I am throwing caution to the wind, as I do not pray in vain, and am convinced the future right owners will present themselves at the right time. . .and under any circumstances will fall in love with the rabbit patch, just as I did a long while ago. .