My Own Private Carolina (Part 1)

I returned to my hometown for what I assumed would be the last time. My mom finally decided to sell our old family home and move into a condo at the beach. It only made sense for her to do so. Since my father passed away seven years ago, there was nothing left to keep her there, and it was really far too much house for one person. Seeing the stuff of my childhood memories boxed up and packed away was bittersweet. Despite the flood of nostalgia, I was happy that my mother was going to spend her golden years in happiness and leisure.

After everything was sent away to storage, Mom said goodbye to go settle into her new home; and I was left alone to do the final cleanup and ready the house for its new occupants. At the end of an exhausting day’s work, I grabbed a cold beer and parked my ass on the front stoop to catch a breath and take in the old neighborhood one last time. When I had arrived a week earlier, I assumed the house next door to be vacant. It was all quiet, and I hadn’t seen anyone enter or leave my entire time there. However, I learned from my mother that the house was occupied by an elderly man named Johnson. Mr. Johnson had lately become too feeble to care for himself, so his college-aged granddaughter moved in to look after him. This was the kind of small Southern town where everybody knew everybody else’s business, which is one of the reasons I left. Mom had only met the granddaughter once or twice. All she could tell me about her was that she was polite but very unassuming and basically kept to herself.

I lingered there on the front steps for some time enjoying a cool evening breeze. Reaching into the cooler for a second beer and popping the top, I heard the neighbor’s garage door sliding open. Out walked a young lady carrying a black plastic bag and heading toward the garbage cart at the curb. She wore a knee-length floral skirt, a pair of white Chuck Taylors, and a denim jacket. Her hair was shoulder length and light brown. She was short, I guessed maybe 5’ 2”, and slightly chubby in a very pleasant way. Depositing her bag she turned to go back to the house. Now, looking back on the encounter, I suppose I was a bit rude, but I stared right at her as she walked. Suddenly, she glanced at me without slowing her stride. I acknowledged her look by raising my bottle and saying “hello.”