...

I DID NOT FLOAT AWAY ON A RIVER of busy-ness, though I did sense the danger of that happening before I hastily tossed my smallish bag into the car and rushed off to the train station to pick up my NYC sis and set out for Virginia. I have been gone, however...away to what, in my personal Book of Records, is listed as MOST BEAUTIFUL SPOT ON EARTH. (And, after an extended weekend there, I'm more convinced than ever that I didn't slip up in my classification.) The weather was such that it somewhat redeemed the gasping-for-breath heat of my previous visit to this place where I spent my childhood, as it was breathtakingly (gaspingly, one might say) pleasant.

The primary goal of my sister and myself--our reason for making this trip--was to establish definite arrangements for one or more gravestones--the uncertainly of number being the indecision as to whether our parents would each have a stone or would share one. My sister had made an appointment to meet with the man from the memorial stone business at three o'clock, Saturday. Because we weren't quite sure of the company's location and he had said it was a half-hour's drive away from the old home place, the man had suggested that he meet us at the cemetery--just a quarter-mile away.

So Friday afternoon was spent driving south, and so stunning was the fall foliage, I well-nigh exhausted my supply of positive exclamations. And then it got dark, and abruptly I had opportunity for negative ones--we had to bring the car to a halt in a clot of traffic and creep down the road inch by inch. But, lo and behold..."Nita!" I said. "Look over there!" To our right was Hogg Funeral Home and the very gravestone-making company whose services we'd be using. Of course, it was dark, and the place was closed, but we spent a full half-hour inching along in front of the company's sign and the building. As soon as we had passed it by, the accident ahead was cleared, traffic eased, and we were on our way.

Well, then we spent another half-hour driving thither and yon, trying to untangle our memories of all the road connections, and figure out how to get to the restaurant where one of our brothers (the twin one) was waiting to have dinner with us. From there on, however, the weekend went swimmingly (I just had to use that term, Dear Reader; it's all about the river, you know [and don't say you don't! I've told you about it before]). There was just one exception (which I'll tell you about right now).

"I'm not going to expose myself to mildew and mold any more than I have to," I told my sis. "Sleep where you want, but I'm going to put my air mattress right here by the open screen door." It was kind of chilly with the door wide open, so she slept in a heated room with the thermostat and I slept in that one with the cold.
Or, at least I tried to sleep for ever so long. Now, since it was cold anyway, but I couldn't quite see the stars, eventually I thought, Why not move my mattress to the deck and sleep outside?!

So that's what I did. In the dark of night I opened the screen door and dragged the queen-sized air mattress out onto the leaf-covered deck. I transferred the sleeping bag, the flimsy little blanket and my pillow. Then I crawled down inside the bag again and looked up at Orion. This is great! I thought. Why didn't I think of this sooner?

That's what I was thinking as I tried to relax and imagine that I would be warm enough as the night got colder. Then the breeze picked up a little and rustled the leaves all around me on the deck, and I chanced to think of snakes. Snakes! This time of year they'd be looking for a place to hibernate, wouldn't they? Ah, the thought made me nervous, but I tugged the sleeping bag tightly around my neck. They're like mice, I know, but if I can just hold this grip in my sleep, I won't wake up with a snake at my feet. I shivered mightily at the very thought, but stayed outside. Breathing deeply, I eased back into sleeping mode. Once or twice small scuffling sounds jerked me upright, but peering into the darkness, I saw nothing. At long last, I was drifting off to sleep.

(And perhaps you are doing the same, Dear Reader. This tale is dragging out, and possibly you're yawning. But there's more to come--loud snarling noises and something to wake you up; well, at least it woke me up! You'll just have to come back tomorrow, I suppose, if you're curious at all.
What I'm trying to say is: TO BE CONTINUED.)

...