It was late on a glorious fall afternoon. The sunlight was brilliant in a cloudless blue sky, making patterns on the roadway as it filtered through rows of stately elm and oak trees. It was cool in the shade, but in the middle of the road, the heat was like a rush of angry bees.
Nonetheless, the fairgrounds were cooling as darkness approached. A strengthening southerly wind sired by a tropical depression in the Gulf of Mexico broadcast a degree of relief from past-summer heat.
My annual visit to the State Fair of Texas had been eventful, punctuated by the wonderful exhibits, shows, games and toothsome foods. Things that only the great state fair could supply. Caramel candy apple tastes clung persistently to the tongue and roof of my mouth – possibly because I ate three of them.
Not paying attention where I was going when I left the fair, I inadvertently took a wrong turn and ended up driving through unfamiliar neighborhoods. Many homes in the area were in need of repair, surrounded by yards long forgotten by neglect.
Finally, accompanied by the realization that I was completely lost, I turned left onto a small, unpaved side road. There was a scattering of houses along the lane that were in a state of disrepair.
Looking at a house on my right, I couldn’t help but notice a lone figure standing in the front yard. Her place appeared tidy and well kept. The house was small, but painted white with green shutters.
Trying to improve my location perception and possibly reconnoiter passage homeward, I decided to stop and ask the person where I was –a hopeful task that might get me to the more familiar locales of downtown or even Interstate 30.
She stood there stoically, leaning on her hoe handle as I approached her. She was wearing an old cap with a faded John Deere logo barely visible. She wore a large, long-sleeve, gray man’s shirt and old baggy khaki pants with white tennis shoes concluding her ensemble.
“Excuse me Ma’am! I’m lost. Could you tell me how to get back to the freeway?”
“I figured you were lost or selling something,” she replied. “I was just about to go into the house for some ice water. This cool wind has riled up my arthritis. You want some water?”
“No Ma’am, thank you. I just left the state fair and got lost and was hoping you might show me how to find the directions for home.”
“My man and I used to go to the fair back when he was alive. We would eat cotton candy and ride the Ferris wheel. I haven’t been in quite a while. He died the same year Doctor King passed.”
Her voice was moist in texture, and as she spoke her glasses moved down her nose, coming to rest at the very tip. Her eyes sparkled in reflective laughter, making her aged-lined-face more youthful in appearance.
“He worked for the phone company, so I get a check. I have lived in that house most of my life.”
I said nothing because I wanted to absorb and take in all her words that rested comfortably on my heart.
“My old neighbors have mostly all died off and my kids live up north. Young folks and gangs are taking over the neighborhood, but I just keep on working in the yard.”
“Your house is pretty and white and your yard is just beautiful, especially the flowers near the porch,” I said.
“I take pride in my home and do the best I can no matter what the neighbors do.”
We stood there silent for a moment, looking around at the darkness that was beginning to embrace the evening.
She cleared her throat, with one hand on the hoe handle, she used the other to point and gesture the directions for me to take to get back to the interstate.
“Sure you don’t want a drink of ice water,” she said, making one last attempt at offering refreshments.
“No Ma’am, thank you,” I replied, as I walked toward the car.
“Well, go back down that dirt road the way you come. Turn left and go to the stop sign and make a right. There is a grocery store on the next corner. Turn left again and that will take you to the big highway. It will take you north into town.”
As I drove away, I looked back. She was looking at me and waving.
After attending the fair this year, I am going to get lost again. But rather than staying lost, I am going to look for a kind, little lady wearing a faded old John Deere cap who lives in a pretty white house surrounded by beautiful flowers. I want to spend some time listening to what she has to say. I am going to learn about wisdom, lived experiences, companionship, patience and listen to stories about a good life. Oh, yes! Do all these things while drinking a cold glass of ice water.
Durhl Caussey is a syndicated columnist who writes for publications around the world. He may be reached at this newspaper or dcaussey@sbcglobal.net.