The week after Daddy’s funeral we got our first snow of the season. It came early, and it came with a vengeance. Nearly eight inches of snow fell, not much by some standards, but driven by the Oklahoma wind it easily became a blizzard. It piled deep against the house and drifted the roads closed. There were places where you could nearly walk up onto the roof, standing on the frozen drifts.
Through the years, I’ve heard a lot of people around home talk about how they wouldn’t want to live some place where it gets cold. I never really understood that. Daddy had to go to Colorado one time to help start a little church up there, so he took us with him. It was only about the third time I had ever been out of the state of Oklahoma. It didn’t seem nearly as cold there as it was at home. Though there were places where the snow was two feet deep, the temperature was comfortable.
The wind makes all the difference in the world. Let me tell you, when the temperature is twenty degrees or less, and you add in the chill factor of that Oklahoma wind--it’s cold. That wind will slice right through you and anything you put on to keep warm. And it was that wind which had everything shut down for miles around, piling the snow up so high in places that a person couldn’t get around.
You know I never really heard my daddy complain about that wind. I think he was so attached to that little town he would have tolerated just about anything. Momma didn’t share the same feelings. She would have gladly moved to some place else, especially some place green. She was from the hills of Missouri, and I think she missed the green of that country. Not that she complained about living in Forgan. It was just when she started to tell stories about growing up back in the Ozarks, among the forested hills and the lakes; it seemed to come out in her voice. But she was devoted to my daddy, and content to live where ever he felt his calling took him.
Daddy loved it when it snowed. When the flakes began to fall down through the sky, it would get him to remembering his childhood, in North Dakota. He would take me outside to build a snowman or drag me around on the sled. It was Daddy who taught me what a snow angel was, and how to pack a snowball for its best effect. He taught me how to build a snow fort, and pointed out the difference in the snowflakes that stuck against the windowpane.
Looking out the window of Momma’s house at the little sparkles of light, feeling warm both from the heat of the floor furnace, and from being in my old home, I thought of Daddy, and I began to cry. I could almost see him out there shoveling the walk. I used to sit at that window and watch him. He never seemed to tire, and I guess I had come to believe he would always be there. I guess we should never take those around us for granted.
I began to wonder how he was making out up there without us. I had no doubt he was there, looking down upon us, keeping watch. With the way he felt about the snow, a sparkling city would make him feel right at home.
Henry had headed back to school before the snow hit, but I stayed that week with Momma. I asked him to let my boss know I might need to be away for a while. I was worried about Momma, and I thought she might need me to stay to help with some things. Besides, I figured she could use the company, but Momma had other plans. She insisted I go back home with Henry when he came back the next weekend.
“Abby Lynn, you have a life of your own. You can’t go putting your life and Henry’s life on a back burner for me.”
“But Momma, how can I even think about leaving you at a time like this?”
I really felt she needed to be around someone.
“I know you mean well, sweetheart, but I could use a little time to myself. I’ll be all right. Besides, I know where your daddy is right now and I know someday I’ll be there as well. Yes, it hurts. I never thought to lose him this early in our lives and I never expected to lose him like we did. I figured we would grow old together. I guess I just imagined both of us would die of old age, but that’s not what the Lord had in mind for him or us. Who am I to judge the Lord’s plan?”
It almost sounded like Daddy speaking through Momma, not that she wouldn’t have said the same thing on her own. It just reminded me of something he would say. He was a very faithful man, trusting the Lord to meet each and every one of our daily needs. He’d say, “Now remember, Abby Lynn, there’s wants and there’s needs. Be sure you know the difference. The Lord will provide for all of your needs and he may even give you some of your hearts desires, but there’s a difference in what you need to get along and what would just make things a little nicer.”
J.B. came by a time or two, bringing down food his momma had fixed for us. He assured me he would look in on Momma while I was away, and if she needed anything done around the house, he’d be glad to take care of it. One night when he was over, we talked until late in the night, or I guess you could say early into the next morning. It was so comforting to talk with him I lost track of time after Momma went to bed.
We sat next to each other on the sofa in the parlor, and as he comforted me with his words, he held my hand. It was nice holding his hand and I couldn’t help, but think about that time on the front porch swing. I was visited by some strangely warm feelings stirring within me. Nothing ever came of it; nothing was said or done to encourage or discourage it. It was completely innocent. I don’t suppose he even realized anything had taken place, but I felt so flush I was sure it showed.
I did as Momma asked. I went home with Henry when he came up the next weekend. By then most of the highways had been cleared, so we had no trouble getting home. But home was not where I wanted to be right then, and I convinced him we should visit her more often in the next few months. We tried to make it back about once a month. It always seemed to cheer her up to have us there with her, but she continued to insist we go back home to our own lives when Sunday afternoon rolled around.
That spring when school let out and we went home for the summer. Momma asked us to stay in the house with her so we could save our money for Henry’s schooling. At first we were reluctant. Momma had been having trouble making ends meet. The church people continued to help out some and she did washing, ironing and sewing for folks around town, but still it was tough for her. She wouldn’t have it any other way, though.
“Nonsense,” she said. “I have to pay the same bills with you all here or not. And there is plenty of room in this big old house. You save your money.”
So, we helped her out with groceries, and Henry did some fixing up around there for her. She relented on those two things.
Henry got a job back at Coldwater’s. I guess the Lord was looking out for us. The hardware business was doing pretty good that summer. That snow a few months back had brought a need for a lot of fence repair, so fence posts, wire and supplies were in big demand. The farmers and ranchers around there hadn’t been able to get it all done in the spring. In fact, being down at Coldwater’s gave Henry a chance to meet up with folks needing help with their fence work. So, on his days off from the hardware store, he hired out building fence.
I wasn’t as fortunate. I was able to fill in some at the Commercial Café, but nothing on a regular basis. Most days I spent at home with Momma. We mended clothes, and I helped her with some of the work she was doing for the people there in town.
J.B. would come over every once in a while. He was busy doing fence work himself. He had hired on down at a ranch along the river. Working out in the sun, he had gotten pretty dark and his hair was beginning to bleach out a little. He had filled out some, too. I guess all the work he did that made him more muscular. He had turned into a real handsome man.
The girls around there had noticed it as well. When he was out on the porch with me, they would drive by and wave. When he came into the café, they flirted and teased with him. And though he didn’t understand it, it was clear enough to me. He was a good catch; as much of a gentleman as anyone I had met, and cowboy enough to make them wonder. I kidded him about it, but he just blushed.
“I don’t know why they won’t leave me alone, Abby Lynn,” he said one afternoon. He kind of fiddled in the dirt with the toe o
f his boot. I could tell he was embarrassed to talk about it.
“Well, you’re a handsome young man, J.B. They’re just trying to get your attention.”
He shot a glance up at me.
“You really mean that, Abby Lynn? You think I’m handsome? You wouldn’t just say that to be nice would you?”
I had never realized it before, J.B. had always come across as being so self-confident, but at that moment I could tell he really didn’t know why those girls were bothering him. He had always seen himself in Henry’s shadow, and he’d never gotten a real glimpse of himself.
“J.B., I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it. You always were a nice looking boy; it’s just that now you’ve grown into a young man, and those girls have become young women. They’re starting to realize something I’ve known all along; you are a caring and honest individual. Those are the things they’re going to want in a man. And to make it even better, they can find it all wrapped up in a nice pretty package.”
And before I had even realized it, I added, “Why, if I weren’t married I would probably be one of them bothering you.”
After I said it, I was afraid I might have opened up something I couldn’t put back in the box, but being the gentleman he was, J.B. let it go.
“Well, thanks,” he said. “It really makes me feel good to hear you say that, Abby Lynn. It means a lot to me. Probably more than you know. It’s just that when I look in the mirror in the morning, I don’t see anything special. You know?”
I reached over and touched his shoulder.
“J.B., if there is one word that describes you, it’s special.”
He kind of smiled an awkward smile. Then he went on to change the subject. We talked about his job, and the kind of work he did out there on the ranch, and a dozen other things. Then he went home, but I couldn’t get him out of my mind that afternoon. I kept thinking about the lack of confidence in his eyes, and how I had never noticed it there before.
When wheat harvest came around, I didn’t see much of J.B. or Henry. Henry would get home late at night only to head out early in the morning. Coldwater’s let him help them with their own harvest. In addition to the hardware and lumberyard, they also farmed. Sometimes the only sign Henry had been home was his rumpled pillow next to me or his dusty clothes in the laundry room. After harvest, the rest of the summer sped by so quickly it was gone in a flash. Soon, it was time to head back to Stillwater.
“You two be careful going back,” Momma said, as we got ready to leave. “Abby Lynn, you don’t forget to write me a letter once in a while or send a postcard. Now, there isn’t any need for you to come back home on those weekends on my account. You need to save your money.”
I looked at her. I knew arguing would do me no good at all. She was a stubborn woman, loving, but stubborn. She was also practical. I always treasured that look she had when she had her mind set on something. I recalled it upon the canvas of my mind many times when I faced a difficult situation.
That was the last summer Henry and I spent with her. It was difficult to find a place to live in Stillwater, at least one that was decent and within our means. If you were a student, and you found a place to live, you had better hang on to it. So, out of necessity, we decided to spend the next few summers there. We still visited home often, despite Momma’s decree. We made it home for Christmas each year, and a couple of Thanksgivings. Those were good times, though they always made me miss being around her.
Momma seemed to do all right for herself, with the washing and mending. Oh, she never had abundance, but she supported herself and she was satisfied. She even took the bus, and came down to visit with us in Stillwater one Easter. It was Henry’s last year of school. It was the first time she had ever been a guest in my home, and I got so excited about it, I scraped up as much extra cash as I could to fix a big Easter meal for the three of us.
We had some big surprises for her on that visit, or so we thought. It ended up that she turned the tables on us.
“So, what’s this big news,” she asked, over dinner.
“Well, Henry has already applied with several companies, and he received offers from two of them,” I explained with excitement. “They offered him a position as soon as he graduates. One of the companies is in Dallas, and the other one is in Kansas City. We haven’t decided which one to take yet, but two offers before he has even graduated, Momma, isn’t that great?”
She smiled.
“That’s wonderful, Abby Lynn. Henry, have you told your folks, yet?”
I answered for him.
“We called his folks last night, but we wanted to wait until you were here to tell you.”
I paused.
“There’s more Momma. Henry and I have talked about it, and we want you to come and live with us. Henry will be making enough money, and you can sell the house…”
She cut me off.
“Sell the house! Why on earth would I want to do that, Abby Lynn? Why, all my memories are in that house. The door trim by the stairwell where we made a mark each year as you grew, my flower beds out back, that old sink that used to give your daddy such a fit, and the porch swing where we sat every evening; I can’t leave those things.”
She must have seen the hurt in my eyes. I was so happy at the thought of finally getting to be with her again, every day. I thought it was the perfect plan, and I thought she would be as excited as me. I knew she was a little stubborn, and I might have to sell her on the idea so she wouldn’t feel she would be a burden to us, but I never expect a flat out rejection. I was crushed.
She reached over and took my hand and then pulled me close, hugging me. She patted my back softly, as she had done when I was a child. Then she began to speak softly.
“Abby Lynn, there was a time when I would have gladly left Forgan, but that was with your daddy. I’ll not leave there, now. Sweetheart, I know you’re trying to help, but you just don’t understand.”
She put her hands on my shoulders, and leaned back away from me to stare into my eyes. Then she took a deep breath and made me understand.
“There are some afternoons, when the weather is nice, I go out to visit his grave. I take flowers from my garden, and trim the grass around the headstone. Sometimes I talk to him, and sometimes I talk with the Lord there, too. I don’t go there to mourn; that was over a long time ago. I go there to share time with him, to revisit the memories. I talk about you, and how well you and Henry are doing, about how proud I am of the young woman you are becoming, and about what has happened in our lives since he left us. I sit there on the grass beside the grave, enjoying the beautiful day the Lord has provided for me and thanking Him for it.”
As she spoke, I could see the tears well up in her eyes, but they never flowed. A kind of glow came over her, and her cheeks showed more color than they had in years. The corners of her mouth turned up. Her eyes were no longer on me, but rather on something above me, far beyond the walls and the ceiling. She was speaking from her heart.
“Sometimes, I can feel him next to me, and it stirs something deep inside of me. I remember his smell, and that lock of hair that always fell down into his eyes, just like yours. I remember the way he wore his sleeves rolled up around the house, and how that one little thing seemed to make him even more handsome to me. I remember his walk, and how it would make me tingle to see him smile at me. I remember how we met, and I remind him as we talk. And after I’ve spoken to him, and to the Lord for a while, I leave there feeling as happy as if he were still with me today, because I know he is still with me today, not in flesh, but in spirit and in our memories.”
“That big old drafty house where we spent so much of our lives together is my home. Forgan is my home, sweetheart. It’s where I will be laid down to rest beside the one man I have ever loved and will love for the rest of my life. And it’s where I’ll stay, until my time comes.”
Though my tears had flowed from the beginning, at first from the hurt and then from the understanding, hers held firm at the edg
es of her eyelids. I knew they were not tears of sorrow, but tears of joy. She had learned to overcome grief and to dwell in the memories left behind. My momma was happy in her home, with her memories, and as much as I wanted her near me, I couldn’t ask her to give that up. There are few people who find complete and total happiness in this world, and fewer still who find it despite losing the one person who made them the happiest. I moved my hand to hold her hand. Then gently, I kissed her on the cheek.
“Okay, Momma. I understand.”