Muddy Water…#121

 

Muddy Water…

 
Down a rutted country road from my

childhood home five miles or so the

muddy Flint Creek flowed south, really

slow.  I could not have been over five

or six, when I walked that road but

never without carrying a big stick.

 
I carried that stick with eyes open wide,

because if a rattlesnake bit you… daddy

said that you might die.In the summer, I

would go there every day skipping and

hopping along; I would jump from that,

rickety old bridge twenty-foot into that

muddy water, then right before the sun

went down I would go home.

 
My daddy never wondered where I had

gone, everyone who crossed that bridge

during the day told him, so you see I was

never alone.  When I finally got home,

daddy would just look at me with a sly

grin, and say with firmness, “Baby you’d

better not let your mother know where

you’ve been.

 

©2019.elizabethannjohnsonmurphree

 

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