Isle of Palms (Continued)
I had somebody from a magazine stop by my house the other day. This fellow was a horticulturalist and a photographer for some magazine in Vermont or someplace like that. He wanted to know what kind of fertilizer I used. I laughed so hard I had to reapply my mascara. I said, honey, I don't use a thing except Lowcountry air and island magic! He shook his head and left, thinking I was playing with his head. But I had told him the truth. I never lie. Okay, I might leave out some facts but that's different.
I'm sure you've heard all these stories about the south being haunted and people here talking to the dead and seeing ghosts. Bad news. They are all true. Every last one of them is true. Things happen here all the time that you can't explain. That's just the Lowcountry. When you get out to the islands, the weird factor accelerates. We don't mind. We adore the bizarre and inexplicable as much as we treasure our eccentrics.
Every life has its share of trouble. Like Miss Angel says, every dog has his day but every cat has his afternoon. Miss Angel is my next door neighbor and the neighborhood philosopher. She's also a regular Edgar Cayce. I dream but not like her. But don't worry, we'll get to her. There are a lot of people I want you to meet.
I wasn't always content, you know. I went through some hellish suffering to finally love my life. But I never gave up hope. Like I said, it was my early years that were the worst. I had to go through them to understand what was worth fighting for and what wasn't and I needed to learn how to just get along in the world. I guess the best place to start would be with Momma.
Do you need some more tea? Well, let's get it now because I've been holding back the tide for a long time. Finally, I think all the failures and victories of my life have come together pretty nice - like a string of graduated pearls. I can talk about Momma now without being upset but, when I was ten? Honey, I would rather have taken a stick in my eye than hear her name so much as whispered.
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