Rococo. Coco to her friends.

Sweeping down the hill filled with light yellow daisies and pastel green grass she bends the wind almost as the breeze moves her along. Casting aside any encumbrance Rococo, Coco to her friends,  runs through the fields and picks a few daisies with a lowering of herself onto her knees and pulling up the daisies and then bounding back onto her feet and down the hillside.

Every movement smooth, masterful as she glides along weaving her way through the trees that begin at the end of the open field. Looking up and dancing with the branches surrounding her as she continues to move forward until she seems to disappear behind one huge tree with low-hanging branches.

Then the tree itself begins to dance and as the wind moves through those branches it makes a sound that is not a howling but instead a beautiful flute-like sound with an enchanting melody. It’s as if Coco and the tree are one and in that unity, the solidness of the trunk and the fluidity of Coco’s movements along with the branches have produced a creation that is alive like no other.

Then, seemingly from nowhere, a pounding drum is heard as from the middle of the tree trunk over and over a rhythm intensifies and rises and falls with the sound of the flute, the melody and the rhythm of the drum dancing inside the tree and the branches and in Coco, still unseen.

As this music continues the branches scroll upwards into the sky, dancing and painting with their leaves and the arms of Coco and her long flowing hair. That hair moves back and forth in the sky making a vision in the clouds that is beyond what mere humans can create and more than the look of any tree living.

Then, as the sculpted heavens show forth such beauty, Coco walks down from the sky down the stairway that is wound among the colors and the wisps of life. She makes her way down ever so slowly still holding daisies from the field and leaves from the branches of the trees and the colors of the clouds in her eyes. 

She smiles and then quietly walks through the trees to another forest and to another field. The earth rustles between her feet as she goes through the fallen leaves and she hums the tune that the flute played as she claps her hands to the rhythm that had come from within the tree. She doesn’t look back but the masterpiece she sculpted with the help of the trees is still there, reaching up and up and up. 

And then she is gone. But the beauty remains. Of Rococo, Coco to her friends.

A Rich Life: Where did I go on vacation as a child?

From my youngest days, we went to visit family in the summer for two weeks then again just after Christmas through just after New Year’s.

Usually, we would first go and visit my Mom’s parents in the hills of West Virginia, Bomont, up a mountain with a creek running through the property. My Uncle Leo and Aunt Nina lived in the house by the road and then there was a short wooden bridge across the creek to Grandma and Grandpa’s house. 

The house was old, like them, and we loved it, and them more. There was a front porch with chairs and an outhouse behind the house. It was quite a good fortune for us all when they got an indoor bathroom and bathtub put in during probably my late childhood/early teen years.

The house inside was a delight, like a cottage really with a great kitchen where Grandma would make the best food, especially breakfast. I can still picture Grandpa at night sitting in the living room peeling potatoes for the next morning’s breakfast and I remember he had on white socks. Then in the morning, Grandma would fry up those potatoes and also fry eggs and bacon and sausage, and I’m pretty sure there were grits as well or some kind of rice. All I know is it was white. Breakfast was wonderful! We ate and ate and ate. Talk about a country breakfast!

My brother and I would play outside all day long, sometimes in the creek and even swim in it, and pretty often we would walk down with my sister to Opal’s Store. Opal was the local Post Mistress and she sold goodies besides and I think had a gas pump too. I remember always enjoying Honey Buns, a sweet treat that I can still almost taste and enjoy from time to time. But then they were such a treat for my childhood snack at Opal’s. Seeing a Honey Bun now in a store, a kind of cinnamon roll with icing still takes me back.

My grandparents had chickens in a chicken coop behind their house from which they got fresh eggs for breakfast and of course, fresh chicken when we had fried chicken, which I especially remember my Aunt Nina making. The chickens were clucking and making noise and I didn’t want to go in there. I’m not sure if I ever did but they were a sight for sure.

The beds were so good to sleep in. Probably the only time in my life that I got to sink into a real feather bed. It was so soft and I would sink down into it and sleep the night away. 

Lots of adventures at Grandma and Grandpa’s place but after about a week we would get anxious to go to my Dad’s family because there were cousins there about our age to play with.  

So we would say goodbye to Mom’s family in the hills and go into the city of St. Albans and see Dad’s Mom and Stepdad who we called Mamaw and Papaw.  Mamaw had a big boarding house and she would serve them breakfast as well. So we got to stay in it and eat there for breakfast. She ran a diner for a while also. She was fun to be around and was also quite the businesswoman, though I didn’t realize that when I was a child. Papaw was always old it seemed and was very kind and tall and thin and quiet.

When we went to St. Albans we also got to see my Uncle Ivan and Aunt Lillie. They were a great couple and we enjoyed seeing them and they always made us feel special.

The big thing as a child was that we got to play with our cousins, Greg, Connie, and Sherry. They were pretty much the same age as me, David, and Rosalyn and we had lots of good times. They were the children of Aunt Ruby and Uncle Jack who were very fun to be around. Aunt Ruby was so fun-loving and liked to trick people. She made great fried chicken too and always made us treats.

When we grew up together as cousins we would do shows for our parents and grandparents in St. Albans at Aunt Ruby and Uncle Jack’s house. We would dress up, sing, perform, and laugh and there was always much appreciation from the audience who loved to see us having such fun and performing for them. So many good times putting our shows together.

Christmas vacation was a lot the same except shorter. We would head to the mountains and then to the city. The big thing in the city was New Year’s Eve when we had a big party that lasted into the new year and we ate shrimp. Aunt Ruby and Uncle Jack hosted everyone and always had shrimp and lots of it. More shows of course by the cousins and we had lots of fun.

Our summer and Christmas vacations as a child were great times with family. I am so glad for those memories and those people.