Calling Me Home

by Julie Kibler

A person gets up in years and she forgets to use her filters. Or she’s beyond caring.

It’s funny how sometimes you find a friend—in the likely places—and almost immediately, you can talk about anything.

But more often than not, after the initial blush, you find you really have

nothing in common. With others, you believe you’ll never be more than acquaintances. You’re so different, after all. But then this thing surprises you, sticking longer than you ever predicted, and you begin to rely on it, and that relationship whittles down your walls, little by little, until you realize you...

I’d learned that people talk when they’re ready.

I guess Momma thought one of those men would be her ticket to a better life. Too bad her choice of men hadn’t really worked out.

“You’d think the pain of losing someone would go away after a while, but it doesn’t.”

“You love that boy of yours, Dorrie. And you’ll love any child he brings into this world, no matter how or when it happens, you hear?”

THE HEART IS a demanding tenant; it frequently makes a strong argument against common sense.

I listened now and then to the stuff my kids liked. The verdict? I liked the beat, but most of the lyrics offended my delicate sensibilities.

“A good man,” Miss Isabelle began again. “For starters, he treats you well. But just as important is how he treats everyone else.”

Anyone who thinks a seventeen-year-old is mature enough to always know the difference between a smart choice and a dumbass decision hasn’t been a mother to a seventeen-year-old.

But understand this: When you fall in love, every kind of reason flies out the newly opened window of your brain.

Her sweet story of her wedding night made me regret many of my stupid teenage decisions.

Times had changed, that was for sure, but maybe all those folks with their talk of abstinence had a point. Still, you had to tell kids how to protect themselves.

“All you can do is act the way you’d like them to act,” Miss Isabelle said now. “They’ll watch you, and then they’ll make their own decisions. You cross your fingers over your heart and hope to God they make good ones. But you’re not going to let them down, Dorrie. No more than any imperfect

mother who loves her children more than she loves herself.”

Miss Isabelle was happy to know that in that man, and in that beautiful girl child and any others yet to come, the love she and Robert had shared finally

had a legacy. In spite of everything, it really was meant to be.

Some men are just plain bad news. Then there are good men. They’ll do. Then there are good men you love. If you find one of the last kind, you’d better hang on to him with everything you have.”