I Remember Him
I remember him as if it
were yesterday, picking black
berries for his mom’s cobbler pie.
He was bare foot with a dirty
shirt and frayed blue jeans;
if you want to call them blue.
His hair dingy red, the color
of southern red clay.
He never saw me; I was sitting
in the water oak, over looking
the creek running between our
houses.
The creek was our playground
for fishing and swimming.
We strung a kudzu vine over a
limb, hanging straight over the
creek; for swinging into the
deepest part of the water.
Down in the shallows was
where his family bathed on
the warm days.
Today was not bath day, it was
food gathering day.
After placing all of the berries
into a big bowl, he would eat
a handful before taking them to
the house.
As a routine, his mother always
lathered him up with bacon grease
to kill any chiggers, she said it
smothered them, it was a wonder
it didn’t smother him.
I wonder if that was why he
always looked unkempt, plus he
had wild animals following him
quite a lot.
It seems as though it was just the
other day, he had a skunk run
him up a tree.
I don’t know who smelt better,
him or the skunk.
In school he would always sit in
the back next to the window.
Some of the other boys nick
named him Bacon; he didn’t mind,
it made him feel important.
Me, I gradually got use to the
way he smelled like a side of pork.
That’s how I always knew when
he picked berries for his mom.
It was as if the bacon grease
tattooed his pores.
She did make the best black
berry cobbler in town;
always taking first place in the
county fair.
This year, the cash prize would
be larger plus the recipe would
be published in the state journal
and eligible for contest winnings
of five thousand dollars.
I knew that they could use the
money, they were desperately
in need of a big wash tub.
If it wasn’t for all of his friends
at school, his mom would have
never won the state prize money
and I surely wouldn’t have married
him,
as I remember…
Copyright © 2008 By Caryl S. Muzzey
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