She was my cousin, and my very first friend.
My mind and heart return so easily to times long past, when you were Missy and I was Becky, playing under the summer sun in Tazewell, Tennessee.
You lived right across the country road from Grandma and Papaw, and I lived a couple hours away. But, summer vacation would gift us with family time every year. Big sister, Janie, and I would be driven south every summer with packed suitcases and big plans. We’d pull up and you and “Little Debbie” would come running down the gravel road ready for cousin adventures.
We’d get to playing in back rooms or the backyard, while Grandma baked cornbread and fried up some crispy chicken in her electric fryer. Papaw watched Gun Smoke, told stories, or smoked some Prince Albert in his pipe on the front porch as we ran in and out. The boundaries were always wider at the grandparents’ house, and we loved to soak up every ounce of freedom gifted us.
And every day, we’d head to the cornfield with a picnic of tin foiled leftovers and jars of cherry red Kool Aid, thanks to Grandma. The fuzzy-leafed corn would scratch our shoulders and whip us in the face as we’d race, wild and free, hiding and seeking down the tall rows. Our destination was a magical little circle clearing with one, lone tree to rest and pretend under as we looked out over the million silky stalks. Joy came simply under those branches.
One of those nights, Papaw let a bunch of us cousins, and our much-loved aunt Shirley, pile into his truck bed to head down the road to buy a yellow box of Brown Cow ice cream bars. As I recall, we ate them too slowly and the summer sun was too strong, so they started to melt. The truck was already barreling home though, probably driven by a giggling grandfather. The wind whipped off the melting chocolate and, to our delight, it landed on our faces, clothes and blowing hair! Never ever will I forget how we could barely catch our breath from those bent over, red faced belly laughs.
Those days also included games of Red Rover, Red Light/Green Light and lots of nights catching lightening bugs under the street lights. We played and dreamed and never imagined that time and life would put so many miles between us.
As adults, we mostly connected through messages and Facebook comments. But, you still found a way to always love, remember and encourage in such a true way. Life was entirely more complicated, but, even still, connecting was really quite simple.
I saw you last at Grandma’s funeral. It had been too long since we’d seen each other, but those beautiful, piercing eyes of yours, that kind way you had, took us right back to childhood. Like so many other moments in my life, the preciousness of family, the gratitude for childhood memories, rose up and spilled over as salty, sweet tears. The time since we’d last been together was both so evident and so unimportant.
Life has been hard and life has been beautiful for both us. Though we never returned to our special tree among the corn, it’s there that I picture you.
I’ve always loved you, and always will, my sweet cousin and first friend. I hope you are running, wild and free once again in heaven with Papaw, Grandma and your dear mom welcoming you finally home.