Knotted Roots Read Free Page B

is,
deep down.  A mother always knows her child,” she said before she turned the
radio on and settled back in her seat.
    Do
mothers know their children that well?  Amber’s mother knows nothing about
her.  She had to be reminded every year when her child’s birthday was. Most of
the time I had to plan the entire thing because she had no idea what Amber
would want.  So, I was not inclined to believe that all mothers know their
children that well.  Grandma Betty may have thought that she knew my mother
that well, but, in my mind, there’s no way to truly know someone you haven’t
seen in almost twenty years.
     
    * * * *
     
    The
drive to Grandma Betty’s house seemed to take forever.  The music blared from
the speakers, but it was as if there was a vacuum surrounding us, sucking the
energy out of both of us.  We were both hurting in that moment, but neither of
us knew how to help the other.  Then again, it was my fault that she was
hurting, but I felt that what I said wasn’t off the mark.  In fact, I was
positive that she had no idea who her daughter was anymore.
    The
trees began to increase in number; their dark bark flooded my vision.  I had
never seen so many trees in my life.  They lined the road, their branches
spread overhead, creating a beautiful canopy for us to drive under.  The leaves
were all different shades of green, mixing together to create one of the most
beautiful scenes I had ever seen.  I had never given much thought to the
significance of trees, but after driving underneath their cover, I could
definitely understand why some people chose to live in places like this.  There
was something calming about our surroundings. 
    We
turned off the main road onto a small dirt road.  I wasn’t expecting the bumps
and dips and it felt as if we were on a kid’s roller coaster ride.  I had never
driven down a road that wasn’t made of asphalt.  The plumes of dust that rose
up from the back of the truck clouded my view as I looked in the side view
mirror.  My mother had always joked that living in the South was like living in
a completely different world, but I had never known what she meant until that
very moment.
    When
we arrived at the end of the dirt road my breath caught in my throat.  We
entered a clearing, and situated in the middle was a very large house,
dominating its surroundings.  The house looked like it had been ripped right
out of an old Hollywood movie, complete with a large wrap around porch and two
rocking chairs by the front door.  The house was almost completely white,
except for the bright red shutters that lined either side of the windows.  The
pathway leading up to this glorious home was lined with flowers of every shade
imaginable, all obviously carefully tended.  It was the most beautiful house I
had ever seen.
    “Whoa.”
    “You
okay over there?” asked Grandma Betty.
    “Um...yes,
I think so.  This is your house?” I couldn’t keep the wonder out of my voice. 
I didn’t want to offend her again, but I was caught completely off guard by her
home.  Where my mother had evidently grown up.
    “Hasn’t
your momma ever shown you pictures of where she was born?” she asked, a small
smile playing across her lips. 
    “No,
never.  I can’t believe...” I looked over at her and my smile wilted.  The look
on her face showed a mix of regret and longing.
    “That’s
a shame.  We had some good times here,” she said as she turned off the engine
and opened her door. 
    I
followed her lead, grabbing my bag from the back of the truck and dusting off
the grit that had collected from our trip down the dirt road.  I hurried to
catch up as she made her way to the bright red door that stood in welcome, a
beacon to all that visited.  I guess I now know where my mother got her love of
red. 
    She
unlocked the door and swung it open, stepping aside to let me enter first.  I
walked through and instantly was stunned speechless.  I had never been in a
home quite like