Prompt by: Stories from the Jukebox
Mud
Songwriters: Cody Cannon
Okay, I messed up. It goes to tell you how the last couple of weeks have been going. When I saw the prompt I thought it was for Mud by Whiskey Myers. I had the story started. The prompt made it easier to finish. After finishing the story I discovered that the prompt was Stone, not Mud. Still, it’s a good story. Enjoy!
Amos sat back on his porch enjoying his retirement. City life had been good but his reminisces on this day were not about recent events. There are times when modern amenities are all that people seem to want. They don’t really know what it is like to live.
His mind wandered back to the summer of 1981.
Amos opened the door to his car and turned toward the house that was touchable from the passenger side window. He looked down at the blacktop and saw the yellow line under his feet which made him smile. “I suspect the house was here first,” he said with a larger grin.
Taking a good look at the house Amos reflected, “I never thought the house was that narrow. There is a place where a door is and a window on this wall. That is it. The front room is not very big.” He looked along the smooth cement porch that was at the side of the house and smiled. The door at the end of the porch opened onto the kitchen he knew. As Amos reached for the wooden screen door handle he paused to look at the workmanship. “Everything has been worked on with pride. If I didn’t know it was over 50 years old I would say this door is brand new.” He pulled open the screen door and pushed through the second door into the kitchen. His first view was a counter with windows over it that ran along the kitchen wall. On the end wall was an old fashioned sink. Above the sink was a mirror with pink flamingos on it. He turned towards the back door and saw an ancient but beautiful wood burning stove. Past there was a little railing with an entrance that led to a dining area. Turning to his right he saw a baker’s table and cupboards that had food stored on them. Everything looked perfect.
Amos paused as he looked around the room, to inhale the air that only older houses of a certain type could have. It was intoxicating and filled him with a certain warmth he hadn’t felt in a while. It was hard to find this in a house anymore. Things change with the times. “An old house,” he murmured. “There is a warmth in this house that is in the walls,” he said in awe. “You can feel it even when the house is without people.”
He set his bag down, and called out, “Ma. I’m here.”
A flurry of feet came from the living room delivering a spry older woman into his sightline. She smiled.
“I’m so glad you could make it.”
“I had to come see my favourite person.”
“Aw. I am always appreciative of your visits. It’s like you have been my own son after all these years,” Sarah replied with a smile.
“I love being here. What is it I am hearing about you having to tear The Flamingo down?”
“The roads people came by not too long ago and told us we are too close to the road. They want to widen it a bit more but there is no room unless the house comes down. We were far from the road when we built the house but as the roads became wider, slowly it has been moving towards us.”
“This is a great house. It has lots of character.”
“Vic built it when we first got married. He built it by himself for us to have a place of our own. Then we had our kids and raised them here. We never had much. It was always a scrabble. There were some tough times and some good times. We always had food. Sometimes it wasn’t much but Vic would go hunting or fishing and bring us back something tasty that would last a few days. Of course I did some canning to help us out in the winter. Everyone pitched in and made it the best it could be. We never had much but life was always good. Jobs were few and far between. Some were seasonal but somehow we always managed.”
“It’s good that you saw it that way.”
“Life has its ups and downs. Everyone goes through some hard times but in the end it’s still ours and we have to enjoy it. Otherwise you would just be miserable and that’s no way to live.”
“Amen to that.” Amos looked around the kitchen area. “Seems such a shame to be tearing this down. It is just what a house should be, warm and inviting.”
She smiled. “You were always sentimental. A house is as warm as the people that inhabit it.”
Amos smiled. “You may be right.” He looked out the window and spotted people carrying lumber. “I should get out there and lend a hand.”
“They would appreciate that.” Sarah laid a hand on his arm. “It’s so good to see you. Make sure you come around again when you’ve got the time.”
“That I will do.” He opened the back door and stepped out, walking up the hill past the well. He looked over at the old wooden shed and then at the outhouse. “Memories,” he murmured.
Sarah watched him taking it all in. “That boy misses nothing.” She smiled as she closed the door.
Amos refocused his eyes to the present and wiped a tear that was running down his face. “They sure don’t make them like that anymore,” he said quietly.
When driving in rural areas, I have driven through several towns where houses are right at the edge of the road. Road noise must be a constant irritant. I guess the homes' occupants must get used to the noise. Being right on the road's edge would be scary.