Disclaimer: This blog is in no way meant to offend anyone, it is just reality as I, Ira Mae Busybody perceives life, and my personal opinion. Places, names and faces have been changed to protect the cantankerous, mean spirited, nosey, bitchy and innocent.
Welcome to Crawfish Creek Manor, God’s Waiting Room…
Hello Bloggers and Followers,
Last entry I left all of you with my bike ride, the active tri-county redhead Ms Laura, and my wonderful friend and confidant Mr. Roy, who still has an eye for the women and makes the worst coffee since the discovery of the coffee bean.
I have never spent such a lovely, quiet and peaceful morning, Mr. Roy and I never had a lapse in conversation. He told me about the love of his life whom he had lost after fifty years of marriage, and I for the first time talked about my failed forty-year marriage. We walked the pumpkin patch to retrieve a perfect pumpkin, he promised to make me a pie, I hate to cook and he loved playing chef. By noon, we had roamed among the trees, and we did pick the one that Mr. Roy said was beckoning us to take it for a Christmas tree. Neither of us had celebrated any holidays for many years.
In the twilight of the evening and with the help of some neighboring farmers the house inside and out glowed with lights and decorations, a special glow! Everyone left, I smiled at the wonder of spending an entire day filled with happiness. Mr. Roy loaded my bike into the back of the old Ford truck, and we pulled out of the driveway. I looked back as the radiance of the house faded and then gone as we turned onto the highway; I could not stop the silent tears that ran down my face.
Mr. Roy said; don’t be sad it will all be there tomorrow when you come back. I could do no more than look at him saying…
“Well of course, and early, I have a Thanksgiving dinner to make for my new friend”.
When we turned into the driveway of Crawfish Creek Manor, I shook my head in amazement. I had rode through Hell Town without even noticing it, and now the reality of walking through the front door of the Manor was going to bring to a close what had been an exceptional day.
Without giving a second thought, I said…
“Mr. Roy, you like Jack Daniels”?
“Girl, how could I have been so lucky today, of course”. His smile broadened and we walked into the Manor.
The “Gathering Room” packed with old men staring at a sea of blue waves and curls; it sounded much like a chicken farm. So many mouths were moving at the same time the only sound I could hear…
“Cluck, cluck, cluck, cluck”!
When Mr. Roy and I walked past them a silence fell over the room, I heard behind me, the Warden whisper to Mouth, “Well I never”! I turned to face her…
“And, you probably never will”.
That my friends was my first Thanksgiving at Crawfish Creek, I hope everyone has a wonderful Thanksgiving this year and if you’re in Clinton be sure to stop and pick up your Christmas tree from Mr. Roy’s tree lot.
Well, dear bloggers and followers, I must close the shutters on today’s. Writing… until tomorrow, remember a shot of “Jack” a day will keep the doctor away, and if you are a senior citizen just keep telling yourself… breathe damn’it.
Ira Mae Busybody
Crawfish Creek Manor
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