Mamie

I drove home today while the sun fell behind noon and hugged the bare hardwood treetops of the countryside. The strobe of the light through the barren branches lulled me into a drowsy stare against the blue winter sky. I knew I needed to stop for a cold bottle of water to brighten my senses.

I stopped at a country store, much like any other along the way. I pulled next to the gas pumps and walked to the front doors. They were filled with advertisements for cigarettes and lottery tickets… none were straight or level or in any thought out arrangement. I could smell the aroma of diesel fuel and gas in the air and feel the small gravel under my shoes.

And there she was. She stood behind a small counter… her place on this earth... her domain. The heat lamps from within the glass walls of her counter were bright orange and filled the area with the warmth of summer. Behind her was a fryer with two baskets, full of golden brown chicken wings… and they beckoned me to move closer.

Under the lights stood a pile of fried gizzards and livers that were fresh from the fryer. They snapped and sizzled upon themselves reflecting the sharp contrast of flower and ground pepper. I approached this beautiful lady as she arranged a pile of potato wedges with her kitchen tongs… she moved like a surgeon.

She asked me if she could help me and I told her I heard she cooked the best gizzards in town. She smiled a smile of an angel with a vision that a model only dreams of. Her smooth dark skin held on to youth and her bright eyes never left me as she folded a small box in anticipation of my order. She placed a small, folded piece of waxed paper at the bottom of the box without effort… as she must have done for decades. I asked her for her name and she told me Mamie.

She pushed the white hair net from her brow and smoothed her clean, white apron as she grinned like a shy teenager. I told Mamie if her gizzards were as good as they looked, I was coming back through town to ask her hand in marriage… she swatted the air in front of me and then wrote, with a marker on my overstuffed box… $2.49.

I made my way back to the Jeep with my box of food… the steam from the heat weighed upon my hand and I knew I would return to see her. When I opened my lunch, a smile came to my face in return… she had placed a potato wedge along the side as an extra treat…

                                                                   Shannon R Killman