the country

by Amy Turn Sharp


I spent a bunch of time with my old granny this week thick in the woods. She hurt her leg in a little accident (13 stitches ouch) and I took her to the ER and on numerous first aid supply buying excursions. She is a tough old bird. We drove around a bunch. The green all around me was almost comical. I kept thinking it wasn't real because it was so pretty. It was so thick. It was so distracting that at times I had to shake my head and focus on driving.

The boys ran wild and feral and my dad shook his head over and over at them. If we could only harness that energy it would always be daylight. I love it that they can fling open the door at grandpa's house and just take off running and they could run for such a long time.
There is no dangerous boundary of asphalt and moving cars to hurt them.
There is no scare out there save the darkest nights they know.

I am currently at the stage of pregnancy where I am pancake sleeping as I call it. I flip from one side of my body to the other all night long. Flip. Flop. Flip. I also practice saying names out loud while driving that I might like. I am still entertaining nouns and other such oddities. This one is hard. It is the last child. I am naming a human being for the last time. In addition to this I have severe pelvic ligament pain that has just started and I feel like walking is very overrated. I would like a scooter. I would like a scooter with a basket to drive around.

I had no cell phone and my mother only has dial up. It was good for the soul.
We went into town and the town looked small like always.
I think about my hometown in a way that doesn't exist anymore.
All my memories are wound round people and buildings
that have not been there for many many years.
I used to feel much like the prodigal daughter when I would drive down Main street.

Now I just feel like a lady in a car who is driving down a street.