Back to Caroline Reedy

I think I saw her. Once.

Playing in the creek in front of Papaw Wymer's house was forbidden. Unless of course you had special permission - which was seldom. Very seldom. It wasn't just a small stream. The creek was at the base of a "mountain" and the sides were pretty deep. Some areas on the sides had been shored up to prevent washout. So to say the creek could get deep was justified. But mostly it would get no higher than knee deep on a child. So,there was much to fear playing in the creek - for our parents. We - as kids - gave never-no-mind.

There was too much to do in that water. Like for instance - dam it up and catch crawdads. Or. . . lay on the creek bank and poke kittens back down in the water with a long stick after you had thrown them in. Or fish with earthworms hooked to a safety pen attached to a string attached to a stick. Or. . . just get wet. But the genuine fears for the moms were the obvious: water moccasins, slippery rocks just waiting for a fall and, well, you know, someone to drown, or even a sudden cloud burst which would make the creek rise and possibly, most probably wash us downstream. But - we were oblivious to such impending disasters. We weren't privy to life's lessons yet.

But enough of the creek, back to Caroline Reedy.

I did the "no no". I waded down, up, (not sure which direction), the creek. I did not ask permission. I went because I -well I don't know why. I was not a child who generally pushed the boundaries, so for me to do this was totally out of character - kinda.

But I went. I was wading along, not sure what I would see or find. I had no particular destination or purpose in mind. Most kids don't. I was no exception.

I was an uncomfortably short distance from home. I could feel it. So I was getting a little jittery.

And that's when I looked up over the creek bank and. . . . I saw her.

There she sat, in a rocking chair on the front porch of an old shack that could not have been any bigger than a small shed. She had snow white hair. She was wearing one of those old "prairie" bonnets. I think. And she was rocking back and forth. (this I know) She didn't see me. She just sat there rocking.

I was scared. I was curious. But I was more scared. I waded home as quickly as I could, panic in my little heart.

I couldn't share my fear or ask questions because I had disobeyed. I had waded in the creek without permission. I wandered a distance from home. I would have been punished.

The memory of that little old woman has forever been burned in the archives of my mind. I will not, cannot, forget her. Was she Caroline Reedy? I don't know. I have chosen to believe she was. She was the only "legend" in my mind that would have made sense - to me as a child.

But more than wondering if she was the legendary Caroline Reedy, I have often wondered why she was in such an isolated place all by herself, at her age. The child in me wondered where she got her food. Who came to check on her? Did anyone at all know she was there? I will never know the answers to those questions. They have been long lost with her and my mom. All because I chose to disobey.