Today I’d like to share a sweet story about me. I’ve mentioned before about growing up as a preachers kid (otherwise known as a PK), There were four of us but at this time in my life, it was me and my older brother.

We moved around quite a bit while I was growing up. I was born in a town in North Carolina called Kinston. It’s in the more eastern part of the state and wasn’t that big at that time. Since I was only a baby, I believe we moved when I was 2 years old to a quaint little town by the name of Littleton, no joke. It’s in the north eastern part of the state.

My older brother is 14 months ahead of me. Mom said he used to tease me and pinch me. Sibling thing I imagine. In our little town of Littleton, we had neighbors, May and Walter Bobbit. They were such a sweet older couple and seemed much like grandparents at the time. Walking to their house on a daily basis was a part of our lives.

My dad pastored a nearby church which I cannot remember the name of. But the details about the daily outings to the Bobbits is a vivid memory. It was an older little house and Mom insisted my older brother and I walk together. I was probably 3 or 4 then. He would try to hold my hand but I had my hands full.

Mom told me that I would carry a dish towel with me when we would take our little walks. The other hand was busy with two fingers in my mouth, not my thumb. It was always the two middle fingers, not the pinky or the index finger.

Back to the visits with May and Walter. They had a kerosene stove and to this day, the smell of kerosene brings back memories of their home and the times we had. She seemed to serve stewed tomatoes quite a lot. They were slightly sweet and warm. It’s been decades since I have had them. She also cooked okra, and that is something I truly love. I remember cornbread to go with it.

May was a sweet and dear lady. Her home had velvet covered chairs and sofa in the living room. The kitchen was in the back of the house so we always ran right back there to get some goodies. A warm smile and the smell of the kerosene stove felt like a second home.

Mr. Walter owned the local shoe and boot store downtown and he walked to work. Our home was in downtown too so nothing was very far away. I can still see the sidewalk my brother and I walked on daily. I remember a big porch on their house and a swing. I love to swing and that may be where I learned to love it.

Those are some sweet memories to me. It’s always good to recall good times. They do make me smile.

Stop to remember…..

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