No amount of success in the world is worth forgetting what's really important. So, either you’re doing really well and need to hear this, or you’re in a bad place and need to hear it. Either way, you NEED to hear this.
Where is this all coming from? Well, from Mamaw, if you recall. You just had a long conversation with her out on the porch. And something told you that you needed to write it all down so you’d never forget any of the things she talked about tonight, because she might not be around by the time you read this. God, I can’t even fathom that. Anyway, I've documented everything for you here in this letter. So, here are all of the things Mamaw wants you to remember about life:
Be the type of woman who gives up your seat on the bus for someone who needs it. Even though this should be obvious, don't get so wrapped up in your own head that you don’t notice when someone needs a seat. That’s just one example. Bottom line, don’t be self-absorbed.
Next thing is that there's no such thing as not having time for the people you care about. You can always make time. Any excuse is bullcrap. Someday when you're old and gray, it's not gonna matter how much you worked or how much money you have. All you'll have left are the memories you made time for.
Remember, if you're not where you think you should be in life, it's never too late to change. But you don't need to be successful to be happy, because happiness IS success.
Find your purpose. It doesn't have to be anything grand. Even the man who shines shoes on the corner has a purpose. People walk away from him with an extra pep in their step, with an air of confidence they didn't have before. Maybe that person went on to ask out the future love of their life that day or took a job that would start their career. All because of that shoe shine.
That said, shine shoes or clean floors for a living if you have to—just don’t become dependent on a man. Always work hard so you can support yourself and never have to rely on anyone.
Don't go to bed angry. Because you might not wake up. And that would just suck.
Pick up your trash. Because who are you to pollute the Earth?
In summary, be nice to others, work hard, but also recognize that money and success aren’t anything if ya ain’t happy.
And most of all, according to Mamaw: never, ever forget where you came from.
A place where people say hello when they walk by you.
A place where connections with the people around you are more important than the type of car you drive or the brand of watch on your wrist.
Never forget the comfort of just sitting under an oak tree and watching that amazing southern sunset.
Never forget the taste of sweet tea made right.
And down-home cooking—if you don't find someone who can make it like Mamaw, make it your damn self! (Or learn if you still don't know how.)
And if for some reason you're reading this and missing home, maybe it's damn well time you went back.
Love,
You
Wiping a tear from my eye—as I always did when I thought about my grandmother—I carefully folded the paper and placed it back in my hardcover copy of I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings by Maya Angelou. Mamaw had passed away a couple of years after Alex was born. I liked to think she would have been proud of my plans to revive Thatcher’s place.
After I put the book back on my shelf, I looked out the window and noticed something moving out front. It was Levi. He was using a tree branch to do pull-ups. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one who was restless and unable to sleep tonight.
CHAPTER 3
* * *
Presley
The following morning, Levi walked right into me as he exited the bathroom off the kitchen.
Flustered, I stammered, “Oh…uh, I’m sorry. Didn’t expect you.”
He simply nodded and brushed past me, heading toward the kitchen table.
His cologne lingered in the air when I entered the bathroom. I looked down to find goosebumps covering my arms. This forced me to deal with the uncomfortable realization that my body had reacted to his hard chest against mine. I cringed. This was proof that you absolutely can’t choose who you’re attracted to, even if it’s the most inappropriate person on Earth. After years of not being touched by a man, it seemed any contact could cause a visceral reaction. I just wished it wasn’t my ex’s brother, who I was pretty sure hated me.
After I used the bathroom and washed my hands, I found him sitting at the table eating some cereal. His knees bounced up and down, like he couldn’t wait to eat and run. His jeans were ripped, and his knee poked out of the right leg. It was a sexy look, particularly with his strong, muscular legs. Again, I cursed myself for noticing such things.
But Levi’s appeal was undeniable. Half of America likely agreed. He was ruggedly handsome, his features a bit stronger than Tanner’s. Levi’s jawline was more angular, and right now he had quite a bit more facial hair than his brother. When you looked at Levi, you knew he was someone who wasn’t afraid to get his hands dirty. Tanner was more of a pretty boy. But they were both handsome in their own ways, and both had dark hair and blue eyes. Whatever their mama fed them growing up had helped turn those boys into very beautiful men.
Just when I’d decided to sit across from him and try to make conversation like a reasonable adult, Levi got up and put his bowl in the dishwasher before booking it out of the kitchen.
Well, so much for that.
A few minutes later, Fern came up behind me.
“What’s this mess you’re making? Is Grumpypants getting under your skin?”
The paper napkin I’d been holding now resembled white confetti strewn all over the countertop. I hadn’t even noticed I’d done that.
Fern might have been tiny, but she was a spitfire. She wore hot pink lipstick and currently had a smear of it on her teeth. Her hair was the type of gray that looked blue. Unlike most older women around here who wore the standard puffball hairdo, Fern kept her hair in a long braid. It whipped around sometimes when she spoke.
I nodded. “Yeah, Levi is getting under my skin. He just left faster than a bat out of hell so he wouldn’t have to talk to me. I think my being here upsets him.”
“Not that hard to do, sweetheart. He seems like a loose cannon. I heard you and him arguing the other day. He seems to have a stick up his ass. The air blowin’ upsets him. And he certainly has no respect for this place.”
My son suddenly entered the room. “Uncle Levi has a stick up his butt? For real?”
Fern answered before I had a chance to. “It’s just an expression. It means uptight.”
“What’s uptight?”
“You know that grumpy character, Luey, in that show you like?” I asked. “The one who always disagrees with everyone and never wants to do anything with his friends?”
“Yeah?”
“That’s sort of what being uptight is.”
“But what does that have to do with Uncle Levi having a stick in his butt? I bet that hurts.”
I shook my head. “He doesn’t really, Alex. That’s just something people say to describe people who are uptight. It’s a figure of speech.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, don’t worry.”