Hill Country Living
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Hill Country Living
By Coulter Fussell
Finally, we’re here! The summer season is in full swing! Some things don’t change from the regular school year, though, as my alarm clock still goes off at the same ungodly hour every morning. But I now get to turn it off and go back to sleep for an extra hour. For some psychological reason that I do not fully understand, I find more satisfaction in hitting OFF each morning than just changing my alarm clock to a later time in the summer. It feels defiant. Like I’m starting the day with a clear boundary and good old’ fashioned, “Not today, Satan.”
And since it’s full-swing summer, I can’t find my kids. Where are they? Who knows. Out in the wilds of these counties, I guess.
I do see evidence of them from time to time. Every day or so, I’ll see a track of muddy boot prints leading from my driveway to the backdoor of my house. They go through the kitchen to the snack pantry, trail over to the refrigerator and then all the way up the hallway stairs into the second bathroom where there will be a wet bath suit on the floor.The muddy boot prints then disappear under the closed door of my oldest kid’s bedroom.
The muddy boot prints then reemerge from under the closed door of his bedroom, back down the stairs, back into the pantry (but over to where we keep the canned Cokes) and out the backdoor into the driveway where, finally, the muddy boot prints disappear right where they began. That’s when I know my 17-year-old has been home.
I see more of my younger kid because he can’t drive yet. Once a day, he takes a break from screaming insults at his video game long enough to text me from upstairs that he needs a quesadilla and ride to his grandmother’s lake to go fishing.
Other than that, I see him each morning. He stands barefoot on the back deck in pajama bottoms and an unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt. He looks out into the big, clear, blue summer skies over the backyard kudzu gully, cracks open a Dr. Pepper and chugs it with great relish. He crushes the can in his hand, takes his allergy medicine and starts his day. Breakfast of teenage champions.
The amount of texts I get from my children declaring hunger is extraordinary. Are children hungrier during the summer? Often, I can’t decide if they are co-dependent and spoiled, if they have tapeworms or both. The oldest one regularly texts me from his job at the Kroger in Oxford asking for me to bring him food. This is baffling. Summer holds many mysteries.
An unrelated, summer mystery around town is the sudden uptick in grounds maintenance! The crosswalks, the weeded sidewalks, the painted planters! Scroggins and crew have this place looking good!
I’m not sure if this is part of the Main Street Grant program, a Mayor Reynolds thing or an early start to regular Watermelon Carnival prep. But, either way, it shows and thank you to whatever town entities are making cleanliness and upkeep a priority. It’s a good example for the kids to see.
I hope everybody stays cool and well-fed this week! And, boys, wipe your boots off before you walk in your Mama’s house.
