Wild and Free Once Again: A Goodbye

 

You were my cousin, and my very first friend.

 

Those memories were our shared treasures.  Those wild and free days so long ago 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.  Summer gifted us with time together each year as big sis, Janie, and I would be driven south for a week of family fun.   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 corn bread 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.  Life with grandparents afforded us explorers wider boundaries, and we took full advantage.

 

Most days, we’d head to the cornfield with a picnic of tin foiled leftovers and glass 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 sun blazed 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 hardly catch our breath from those bent over, sticky, red faced belly laughs.

 

Our long, lingering days also included games of Red Rover, Red Light/Green Light and lots of nights of chasing lightening bugs under the street lights. In our full innocence, we played and dreamed and never imagined that time and life would put miles between us.  The cousin bond had its own language.  It’s own shared history.  We assumed those summers would never end.

 

Time surprised us though.  Before we knew anything had changed, we were adults with lots of life between us.  Our connection became occasional visits and then just Facebook messages and comments.  But, you still found a way to always love, remember, and encourage in such a true way.

 

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.  After exchanging just a few words, we were Missy and Becky all over again. Tales of the cornfield and the truck bed were the ones we chose to recall.

 

Though the details were different, both our lives have teetered between hard and beautiful.  I’m so glad those days were untouched by an awareness of what was to come.

 

Goodbye, my first friend.  I’ve always loved you, and always will, my sweet cousin. I hope you are running, wild and free once again in heaven with Papaw, Grandma and your dear mom welcoming you finally home.  I hope there are belly laughs there too.