Memories in Green
By James E. Gurley

(continued)

"There sure is a lot of Kudzu here," he said.

"Yes. Old Mr. Kudzu's everywhere. The old saying is 'Keep your windows closed at night to keep the Kudzu out.' It comes and goes with the seasons. Everything and everyone on God's green earth has its season I suppose." She closed her eyes and sat silently as David finished his third cookie.

"Do you have a family?" he asked.

"I did once. They were killed in the war. My older sister and I lived here alone through the hard times after the war. The South was not a good place to live then. Northerners ran everything and took what they wanted from us. The law was no help at all. Mostly we tried to stay out of the way. My sister married a nice young man and moved to Tennessee. She wanted me to come with them, but I just couldn't leave this old place. I've been here ever since."

David eyed the old woman. He couldn't guess her age. She was probably as old as Granny had been, but something in her eyes made him unsure. "Was it the Vietnam War?" he asked. They had learned of it in school last year.

"Viet... Nam?" she questioned. "No. I've never heard of that. I'm talking about the War of Northern Aggression, the Civil War. I was born in this house on June 15th, 1854."

David almost dropped his glass of lemonade. Civil War! 1854! This woman must be as crazy as those people he had seen once walking on Lucky Street near the Union Mission where the soup kitchens were! He slowly got up from his chair and said, "Thank you for the cookies and lemonade, Ma'am. I've got to go now." He edged his way to the steps.

"It's been good to have company, young man. It's not often the Kudzu takes to people. You and I are some of the lucky ones. Come visit me again. My name is Miss Thompson. What is yours?"

"David," he yelled over his shoulder as he ran back down the path into the engulfing emerald jungle.

"Crazy woman!" he said to himself as he ran. Civil War! The Civil War ended in 1864. If she had been born in 1854, she would be, let's see -- 148 years old! Impossible.

He hurried back home and was relieved to see his mother working in her rose bed. "Mother! Mother!" he yelled. "There's an old crazy woman living in there." He pointed into the Kudzu.

His mother dropped her garden tools, frightened at the panic in her son's voice. "What is it David?"

He explained his visit to the old woman who said she was born before the Civil War and lived in a house in the Kudzu. "Come on!" He pulled her toward the path. "I'll show you!"

They went to the edge of the yard, to the foot of the Great Kudzu Wall. He tried in vain to once again find the path. The Kudzu once again presented an impenetrable barrier, repelling all attempts to force a way through.

"Look David," his mother said sternly. "I don't have time for any more of your run-away imagination. I have to finish with my roses and get dressed for a tennis game with Margaret. She's the wife of the President of the Country Club and very important to my future here. If you must run wild, get Imelda to play with you. Lord knows I pay her enough." She let go of his hand and walked back to her rose bushes.

David didn't understand. Where was the path? Why couldn't he find it? A little frightened by his experience, he decided to go inside and play with his new XBox, a birthday present from his parents.

The next weekend, after another ridicule-filled week at school, he had forgotten his initial fear and curiosity got the better of him. Still, there was no use in taking chances. He talked Imelda into coming with him. Surprisingly, the path opened up to them. They made their way into the green jungle. Imelda made the sign of the cross and muttered, "Madre de Dios, protect me."

The path was the same, but the sounds and smells were different. There were no birds or flowers. They came upon the small clearing but, to his surprise, there was no house, only a pile of bricks and debris where one may have once stood. He looked around but saw no sign of the woman. Imelda looked around also, making the sign of the cross and holding her rosary beads tightly.

"This is a bad place," she said in her lisping accent. "The Evil One lives in such green places."

"Miss Thompson!" David yelled aloud, calling into the Kudzu, but there was no reply.

"Be silent!" Imelda scolded him. "You will bring the Evil One on us! We must leave now!" She jerked him by the arm and led him back down the path, watching as it seemed to close up on itself behind them.

He was never able to talk Imelda into venturing into the Kudzu again. She refused to even come near it from that day on.

A few Saturdays later he tried the path again, this time alone. It opened up for him and almost seemed to draw him into the Kudzu. There, on the front porch was Miss Thompson, setting out a plate of fresh cookies and lemonade.

"It's so good to see you again, David," she said. "I've missed your company."

David sat down. She didn't look like a crazy woman. She was smiling and soft spoken, just like his Granny had been. He decided he had to ask her 'The' question. "How old are you?"

She laughed. "Why, David. A gentleman never asks a woman her age. It's not polite." She laughed again. "Well, I guess I can tell you. I was ten years old when the Yankees killed my parents. They were trying to hide wounded Southern soldiers in an old shed. The Yankee soldiers shot them both and burned the shed down. They took the wounded men away. They tried to burn the house, but it started raining. My sister and I hid in the woods.