... into South Carolina always causes me think of a friend who lives up in the northwest corner of North Carolina. In order to get to where she lives, 'way off up there in the place that is nearly into TN and almost to VA, you make a sharp left turn as soon as you get across the Georgia state line. And drive through the hills on rural state highways so curvy the road signs look like they are warning you about snakes. I have a very clear memory of taking a daughter who wanted to go visit, and meeting the friend there at the Welcome Center: you have to take the first exit on the interstate into SC, and make a U turn to get back into GA.
I did not do that today, but was hightailing it on into SC to get to Greenville for a short visit with my pen pal. I have not seen Homer in quite a while. A trip to SC was on my calendar back in April, but I made several trips to VA instead, and had to postpone getting up to see Homer. Due to his age, I try to get up there to visit once a month, knowing that any visit could be the last one: I will want to go and he will be gone.
We spoke of trivial stuff, talking about family and things of little consequence. Just spending time together. Walking around his yard, he complained about neighbors' cats doing their business on his property: they have no manners, but plenty of 'breeding' as they are constantly reproducing.) I suggested he trap them and call the city to come and get them.. He said the city will charge him $50 per cat. I then told the story of the cousin whose husband trapped squirrels that were eating his tomatoes, hauled them miles away and released, off only to become convinced the rodents were beating him back to the house.
He muttered about weeds, ignorant/neglectful lawn service guys, squirrels, weeds and more weeds. We wandered around looking at hydrangeas he has had growing for years, talked about some thornless blackberries and little dogwood trees he hopes to transplant, a rose bush I gave him years ago in a three inch pot that is now nearly as tall as I am. We went to BK for lunch, stopped to post a letter and back to the house. When I said: 'I am so sorry, but need to get started back home, as I hope to beat the worst of the traffic through Atlanta.' He laughed and said: 'You will never do that!' He was right. It was going about 14 mph when I got on the 285 perimeter.
But I safely made it back home, in order to get up at 4 a.m. for arriving at work at 5 o'clock. It is not even fully dark yet, but I am ready to say: Good night all.
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