Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 113812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
“I did. I used to while growing up here.”
“Did you like it?”
I nod without needing time to think. I grin, the memories probably better than the hard work it took to keep things running back then. “I liked it a lot.”
“Then why do you live in New York City?”
I stop the car just after entering the property past the rusted metal gate. Looking back at him, I reply, “Because you’re there.”
A smile grows just like my mom’s prized cabbage always grew—big and showy, and worth every ribbon she ever won. Beck’s smile has often been compared to mine. I’m always happy to take the compliment. “You ready to see Grammy and Pops?”
“Yeah!” He throws a little fist pump into the air.
I start down the dirt road that leads to the sage-green house with the front porch that wraps around three sides. The same rocking chairs are still there like I never left. The swing still hangs from chains I helped my dad attach when I was about Beck’s age. The house hasn’t been painted since I was in middle school, and it is well past time, judging by the strips of wood I can see running across the siding. But I needed to see this place again when I left the city.
Home.
My mom is already pushing through the screen door before I can park. Her hair is shorter, a mixture of blond and gray running through it. She’s tan, as usual, though she typically wears a hat in the sun. She was a young mom, but years of working the farm can age anyone. Those green eyes that she passed down to Beckett and me shine like emeralds when the sunshine hits them. “Tagger!”
I cut the engine and open my door. She may be a lot smaller than me, but she still knows how to swallow me in a hug like I’m still her little boy. “I missed you, Mom.”
Leaning back, she looks up at me. “I missed you so much.” When we part, I move to the back seat and open the door to get Beck out. “Oh my grandson, come to Grammy.”
Though they’ve only seen each other a few times in the past few years, Beck adores her. She’s comfort in human form, good for the soul, and always my biggest cheerleader.
She’s also hugging the life out of my son. He giggles, so I guess he’s going to survive. “You have gotten so big, Beck. I thought you were your father at first.”
He giggles again. “I’m big like you, Daddy.”
“You sure are, buddy.” I glance back at the house, “Where’s Dad?”
“Down at the river fishing.” She takes Beck’s hand and says, “You should go see him. While you're gone, I can stuff this little monkey bear with homemade strawberry cobbler. I just took it out of the oven.”
That reminds me. I grab the candy from the back seat before it has a chance to melt and hand it to her. “I always had great timing, but I think he’s had enough sweets until after dinner. We stopped and got ice cream in town before heading out here.”
“Ah! Well then.” Looking down at him, she asks, “How about you and I go inside and start on the succotash together?”
“What’s succotash?”
“I’ll teach you all about succotash. It’s one of your dad’s favorites from when he was little.”
I wouldn’t go that far, but no need to burst any bubbles. I need a break from the life I just left, so I won’t start any fights over vegetables while I’m here.
She starts leading him to the house. The two are peas in a pod, and it is like no time has passed since they were together last. “You should change clothes. You’ll get your nice clothes dirty if you don’t. You can find your boots and jeans upstairs in your room.”
My room was never kept as an altar to my glory days of high school or college but as a soft place to land as if she knew I’d need it one day. I find myself breathing easier being back home again and from knowing he’s in good hands.
My mom stops on the porch. “Your dad took the utility vehicle, but you can take the tractor if you want.”
The heat isn’t overbearing since it’s only April. “I can walk.”
“The fresh air always does us good.” She turns but then stops to add, “I’m so glad you’re home, Tag.”
I leave the keys in the car and shut the door. “Me, too, Mom.”
Shoving my hands in my pockets, I step forward. My Italian leather shoes contrast sharply against the green grass of spring, and I pay no mind to the dirt that already clings to the stitching and toes. Clothes can be replaced, but this feeling of freedom? It’s priceless.
I feel like I take up more space in the city, but that could be my ego or reputation. This, though . . . Amazing. At the top of the hill, I stop to look up at the clear blue skies and green land that stretches for miles, in awe of what a small part of the universe I am.