St Louis was a good six hour drive from Myrtle. Gatlinburg, a good seven.
Both were further than my daddy cared to be from our little 80 acre patch in Myrtle, Mississippi.
I was about three years old when my daddy’s job took him out of town. Mama said he had gone to St Louis. I don’t recollect. But it soon became a trip none of us would forget.
The sun was just starting to show through the orange and brown plaid curtains of the motel room. Which meant nothing to my daddy since the street lights had beamed through them all night (we didn’t do street lights in Hargrove Holler). It was now his first day at this particular job site and had already been a long night.
Daddy got out of bed, got around, smoked a cigarette, had several cups of coffee, brushed his teeth, combed his hair, put on his clothes, grabbed his work coat, and reached for his empty lunch box. Mother wasn’t there to pack his lunch. So naturally the last thing daddy did right before walking out the door, was slip into his old work boots.
Daddy put his boots on. Sat back down on the bed and called mama. “Mary I am coming home”.
My mother has always had a high demand for explanations. She waited for his belated response. And as usual it drug out like molasses in January.
“I got up, got around, smoked a cigarette, had my coffee, brushed my teeth, combed my hair, put my clothes on, grabbed my coat, reached for my lunchbox but you weren’t here to pack it. Then, naturally right before I walked out the door, I went to put on my old work boots. There in the toe of my boot sat Mandi’s little blue dinosaur. I reckon she put it in there while you were packing my clothes. I reckon she thought I’d forget her. I reckon I’m not gonna let that happen anymore”.
Most of those lucky enough to know my daddy, know it wouldn’t have taken much to get him back home. Daddy shed a whole new light on the phrase “light traveler”. But according to him, Mandi Lee and that little blue dinosaur were certainly to blame.
Daddy was home before dark that day. He put the little blue dinosaur on top of his bedroom dresser, and forever, that’s where it stayed.
Nearly twenty years passed, and I had made the decision, bought the dress, and reserved a venue.
A venue for two none the less. Out of shame I wanted no friends or family in attendance. I was 19, terrified, and away from home for the first time (okay so at three months pregnant I had obviously been out of the house).
In a cabin, on some hill (with street lights) in Gatlinburg I woke up to prepare for my wedding.
I got up, got around, had my cup of coffee, smoked a cigarette, put on make up, hot rolled my hair, slipped into my wedding dress, and grabbed my Sunday coat off the hanger. It was March 13th and all of East Tennessee looked like a winter wonder land.
Thirty minutes before our ceremony and Scott was outside deicing the truck. I was inside putting on earrings, and getting his wedding ring out the box. Naturally the last thing I did before walking out the door was step into my shoes.
There in the toe of that ivory heel, sat that little blue dinosaur.
Daddy wasn’t telling me to come home. In his own special way (which was sweeter than any jar of molasses) he was telling me, no matter the circumstances I would always be that same little girl he found worth coming home for.
My Daddy was simply saying he was proud of me.
I sure do miss him.
