Conversation with Maxine Overheard in a Motel Lobby off I-16 in South Georgia

Background: We are traveling on weekends these days to see my father and help with some household tasks, so we are spending some time in hotels and motels on the road. Sometimes I just like to eavesdrop and take notes about how life happens for other people – which is what I did on Saturday morning as we sipped coffee in the lobby. There’s nothing quite like a little slice of cultural conversation, overheard, to get the mind racing about what life is like in other corners of the world.

“they finally found him in Statesboro in CCU

after he went into Metter and they transported

him to Statesboro then to Augusta who sent him

back and he was lost, nobody knew where

he was at but he was at a dadgum good hospital

in Augusta and either he checked hisself out

or somebody came and picked him up and

took him back to Statesboro…..

I cried all

night because I messed up my baby’s hair

and it looked like a lawnmower done ran

over it and all the kids teased him in school

but the vet showed me how to hold the

clippers and I did it just like that…..

I called Betty Joyce, Maxine, and you do not

understand sometimes I have to talk to her

and I told her I can’t deal with her actin like

a two year old like she done this morning….

now Barri in Laundry don’t want that job

so I better not hear her complainin one more

time cause it’s done been offered but she

says she don’t want lobby…

there’s three types of tacos up there and I

got off the phone with Ashley and asked Mama

if she wants to share a plate of three tacos

but Mama said them tacos won’t be very big

and she got hers with beef and I got mine with

pickles in those torTILLa shells, and we shared

them but she ate two and I ate one and she was

upset so Denise called and asked her if she wanted

to go sit over there at her house and I told her

regardless of her knee surgery she weren’t going

because her grandkids are coming and Denise has

Covid and she’s actin funny. All this crap I

got going on and my Mama’s gon’ talk to

me this way. Her husband left last night

and where’s he at now? Nobody knows.

I was still hungry so I told Ashley I wanted

some rice and beans because my tacos

showed up without pickles and onions

so she brought those out to the house

and added some pork and pineapple and

it was so good, Maxine. Mama got a piece

of pineapple in her taco and I thought she

was ‘gon flip her lid and she started

actin up again…..

And so a couple comes up to check in

off Cartwright and wants a room at 7:54 a.m.

and the clerk tells them if they stay around

here they have to live over 50 miles away

to check in and the man said it was

more comfortable though

{my mind

was racing at this point, there was

no sleep about to happen, and the

botch-haircutter went back to

weaving a web of life so intricate

and vernacularly cultural that I

had images of a web with the

word TERRIFIC over a

smiling Wilbur as I thought

of that rude goose and Templeton}…..

And I busted her out in front of

her husband at the ballpark

cause she’s been here but

not with him – she’s been here

and she looked at him and me

and when I hinted I’d seen her

recently she looked stupid and said

she ain’t seen me in probably

never.”

A Moment


they took my breath away, this moment

when Kona jumped up in Dad’s lap

to show him she understands

her master isn’t well

his gentle hand of

reassurance ~

I’m going

to be

fine.

Fall Bucket List

my fall bucket list:

cinnamon-honey butter

for breakfast bagels

next I’ll knit a warm wool hat

after that, I’ll brew clove tea

then I’ll buy a pear candle

and snuggle our dogs

just them and me

Owls

when we came home

from our camping

weekend, there he was

hanging out in the

pine trees slated for

clear cutting

in these trees he’s loved

for years, where I too

have loved watching him

soon his mate appears

and they swoop

from tree to tree

and I hope to God

there is no little

owlet tucked away

in the safety of

a doomed tree

Honeybee

a honeybee

took a liking

to my Cayman Jack

margarita

climbing into

the bottle

taking a long swig

then a dip

then a plunge

then a swirl

and died

a senseless

death as I

tried to help

her back

to a better life

but she

refused to

admit her

problem ~

she’s buried

at campsite 301

by the fire pit

a pollinator

extraordinare

her life cut

short by

the delusional

pleasures of

this world

Belonging in the Change

a tiny black wet

Schnoodle nose

nudges my arm as

marble-black eyes

covered with wild brows

peer up at me

from the camper seat

when I lift my arm

to raise my mug,

drink cold brew coffee

from my Halloween

Snoopy mug I truly

believe will make

the cool temperatures

arrive sooner ~

Fitz is slumped

against me,

seeking, too, all

the magic of

forthcoming fall

the changing

of seasons, gentle

wind blowing outside,

a tad early for the

acorns peppering the

camper’s roof but

all the rest of

the comfort of rituals

he knows as

reassuring trust

and belonging

in his forever family

the ding

next time he

goes to a

storytelling night

he will time his

cliffhanger at

exactly two and

one half minutes

and then when

they tap that

ridiculous spoon

on the coffee cup

to signal thirty

more seconds

he will smile

return to his seat

leave everyone

hanging

and sit down

Refrigerator Casket

in my melatonin dreams

the cemetery trees

hung low over the corner

graves in a

chain link grocery store

parking lot ~

going in for milk and eggs

I couldn’t

believe my eyes.

A refrigerator.

a pine box with a plunger

stuck to the top to open it

for anyone who wanted to

see the body inside, there

above ground

no one would believe this~

I took a picture

then woke up

horrified that anyone

would be buried in

a display grave

Celebration Shoes

it occurred to me

in the shower

this morning that

the work shoes

I just bought

may be the last ones

I’ll need for my career ~

these last-hurrah celebration shoes:

Life Stride flats with

Velocity 2.0 footbeds

in navy and taupe

may get me through my

remaining years

taking me straight into

the retirement years of

my soul spirit

classic hippie Birkenstocks

for all the frayed denim

and fringed shawl

days ahead

just not today,

not yet.

Getting a Grip

getting a grip on

her future starts with

burning the Christmas tree

boxes one decade now in

her attic

buying enough hummingbird

nectar to last through October

and watering the string of pearls

cascading from the porch table

getting a grip is festooned with

saying goodbyes to too much

long held hostage from living

new lives in better spaces

like all those music boxes

of childhood and sad, stained

table linens frayed with holes ~

gaps in the timelines of

lineage like broken branches

on that cross-stitched tree

of names and thread strands

of who goes where and how

pre-affair, divorce, remarriage,

cousins once-removed now

fully removed and never coming

back because they did the

same thing with their goodbyes ~

they burned the Christmas tree

boxes and all that’s left is

the cooling ash of

what once was

before their birds

left the nest for the skies