Wings and a Prayer | Eastern North Carolina Now

It seems "time really does fly, when you are having fun". It is a mystery to me how an entire week has already passed, in what seems like three days.

ENCNow
    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.

    It seems "time really does fly, when you are having fun". It is a mystery to me how an entire week has already passed, in what seems like three days.

    A lot of good things happened. I whiled away some time by the river. I smelled the fragrant flowers at the "Nobles' house" and watched a robin build his nest. Lyla and I sat on the flat rock, by the little bridge and the cherry trees bloomed in the village. We dined out-and we cooked in. I had several good visits with Miss Thelma . I may have heard Lylas' first prayer, on Wednesday.

    I was up early as usual . . .at the early service. Lyla often finds me there in the back yard. She joined me and after a moment, she said "Honeybee, you need to go in the house." I asked if she wanted to be by herself and she answered "yes". I walked in the back door, but kept it ajar and listened. She said "I love girls and I love my baby sister. You need to find her and hurry. I am big sister Lyla." Well, I was struck in awe and could barely say anything when she waltzed in just seconds later. Mere words still fail to describe what I felt, but an overwhelming sense of peace seemed to settle in my bones . . . all was well, I thought.

    I cooked honey cakes for her birthday breakfast, on Thursday. We sang "Happy Birthday" through out the day and Lyla painted on her first canvas. I could not wait to give Lyla her present. It seemed I had been waiting her entire three years and so I made quite a ceremony about the whole thing. I gave Lyla a violin.

    It is a real instrument and tiny enough to be just her size. I have been enticing her since birth, by playing for her. Oh, how happy I felt to see her happiness and eagerness to get started. I remembered her own mother -who did not want to start with "Twinkle, Twinkle", but an allegro, her brother was playing, many years ago. Right after Lylas' first lesson, Will's dad drove up. He lives five hours away . There was a lot to celebrate in those moments.

    On Friday, there was an "art walk" in Elizabeth City. This is a monthly event in warm seasons, that is held downtown, featuring artists of all sorts. Mandy, of Pansy & Ivy, is recognized for her flower arrangements, at the "art walks." Wills's dad, Bill Thompson is a bonafide author. He has published a sizable collection of books and is also a public speaker. He was the featured artist at the local bookstore, making us all feel honored and proud. A young musician played his guitar and sang outside . . .and I missed my son, Christian.

    Saturday started with a big breakfast for "Grandaddy Bill" to be sent off properly. He left with good memories . . .and biscuits. Will and Jenny had a birthday party for Lyla, after lunch, at a local facililty used for such gatherings. It was a sweet affair and a very busy time.

    I woke up Sunday in disbelief at the date. Surely, one more day would make such a difference, but tomorrow was Monday, and that would change everything. Just after the breakfast dishes were put away, I started "Sunday Dinner". I did not invite Lyla to help with making the pastry for the pot of chicken that was beginning to simmer. She was tired from all of the weeks' ruckus-and I was too. Miss Claudia came and I fixed a pineapple cheesecake because of it. When the kitchen was at last, tidy again, Lyla climbed in my lap and went soundly to sleep.

    The ride home was peaceful. Dogwoods bloomed in most every yard and along the edges of fields. Azaleas paired with dogwoods is is a sight to behold The last mile to the rabbit patch was streaked with the bright yellow buttercups, along the ditch banks. It would have been the perfect route for a parade, I thought. The woods are donning new leaves in pale shades of green that remind me of water colors.

    I was glad to see Kyle and Christian. Cash, my boxer and Christopher Robin, my gray cat, made quite a big production of my arrival. Christopher Robin did not even "put on airs" as he often does after I am gone a long while.

    I noticed the grass was greener, than it was a week ago, and so was the peach tree. The house was tidy, and the boys did not starve, after all.
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TMc: VN ... French War 1954 Rabbit Patch Diaries, Public Perspective, Body & Soul TMc: VN ... Cambodian/ China War 1979


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