Like my mamma and grandma before me I was born and brought up on a farm on the Potomac river. Our house looks down the meadow to the river heading on down towards Arlington. To watch the sun set over the river of an evening is to a beautiful thing. I used to love being by that river, just like mamma, and, as soon as I could swim, I was allowed down on my own and would sit and play in the dying light of a summer’s day. I’d have long conversations with make-believe friends as the fish rose in the gloaming. Then mamma would call down to me to come and get supper and bring my ‘friend’ if I wanted to. Mamma used to say it was an ancient and special place, where this and other worlds came together. She used to tell me how the spirit of the land and the people who lived there met for those who were open. We’d sit by that river and she’d talk about stuff like that. She’d tell how we didn’t really own the land. The Necostin people and others had lived there long before we came along and ‘settled’. She believed, as they did, that we had no right to do anything but tend it and make sure it was in a better state when we left than when we came. “It isn’t enough to do no harm,” she’d say, “we have to make things better.”
Papa farmed and worked as a handyman. He wasn’t any old sodbuster though. He had a Berkeley PhD and had worked as a systems analyst and in New York finance. He was kind of a high flier and gearing up to make a whole lot of money. Then he met mamma on a trip to Washington and that was it. He said to me when I was a little girl, “A man would have to be crazy to choose money over a life with your mother.” So he became a farmer. Mamma wouldn’t leave the farm – she use to say it was in her blood. She was no simple country girl mind; she’d graduated and travelled a while, she just knew what was important, what people needed to be happy. Mostwhiles they both just needed each other…and me I guess when I came along.
Mamma died when I was fourteen. She was ill for a while and finally couldn’t get out of bed. Papa moved her bed near the window so, propped up on her pillows she could look out of the window and watch the river and me playing or reading down by it. I remember sitting on her bed a week or so before she died; she looked out of the window and then at me and said, “God Susie, I love this place. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to leave it…or you come to that.” Then she just smiled that smile of hers and gave me a hug.
Daddy took it real hard when mamma died but she’d given him strict instructions. He wasn’t to cave in and he wasn’t to give up….not just because of me but because he still had a life to live and a job to do. So he did as he was told, though it must have been so hard for him; I see that now. He taught himself to cook properly and worked harder than ever on the farm and he tried as hard as he knew how, not to show me his pain.
Mamma didn’t leave me any instructions and I kind of went off the rails. I couldn’t think about anyone else, not even papa…to tell the truth, I couldn’t think at all. I drew in on myself, still talked to my imaginary friend down by the river, but not to anyone else, not even papa. Then, about a year after mamma had gone, I was standing on the porch watching the sun go down and there by the river was a girl. She was just standing there looking up at the house. Our neighbours lived a way off but I just thought maybe they had a girl staying with them or something. I didn’t like the idea of some stranger being in my place by the river so I just stood and stared. She stood for a while, staring back, then looked around her and walked away. Papa called me for supper and I went in.
As we ate I said, “Papa.”
He was kind of surprised because I hadn’t started a conversation worth mentioning for quite a while.
“Yes Honey?”
“Who’s that girl?”
“What girl’s that?”
“The one down by the river.”
“You’ve seen a girl down by the river? When was that?”
“Just now…she was down there just staring up at our place and I don’t think she should be there.”
He went pale, and was quiet for a while, just thinking. Then he said, “You know who that is just like I do. Should she be there? I don’t know Susie but it surely is a comfort to me that she is.”
Like I said, I had lost my way and I couldn’t believe in all that stuff. My momma was dead and gone and that was cruel but it was true. I told him so too and we had a falling out. I couldn’t settle after that. I didn’t see her again and I didn’t want to. I just wanted to get away. So, as soon as I was old enough I joined the military, just about the time women were allowed to take on combat roles. I served for ten years. I loved the life for most of those ten years too. There was structure and there were friends….more than friends and I had enough hurt in me to want to give some back. Being the US military there were plenty of chances to fight and to hurt people I didn’t know. I got promoted a few times too. I didn’t go home much. I wrote; stuff about the life and the promotions, that kind of thing. The last time I did go home it wasn’t good. Papa had aged some of course and I sensed he didn’t really like what I was doing. He was kinda proud too but worried for me I guess and something else, worried about me, about who I’d become. We were both walkin’ on eggshells for the few days I was home. On my last night he came out with it. We’d been talking about nothing in particular as usual, travel arrangements and stuff. Then, towards the end of supper, I guess he screwed up his courage. He looked at me and said, “So Susie, is the world in a better state for the life you’re living? Are you in a better state for the life you’re living?”
I came back at him of course because he’d touched a real tender nerve. I said, sure it was better because of what I was doing and I was just fine doing it. There were bad people out there who had to be stopped anyway we could. I told him he was old enough to have outgrown all that Berkeley crap about peace and love and joined the real world.
Then I stormed out and headed for the river. It was cool autumn night with mist along the water but, as I walked down, angry and upset and not really seeing anything, I glanced up and there she was again. I was ready to take her on too and ran down towards her. The look in her eyes stopped me dead. She looked so hurt and so bewildered I reached out. But she was gone.
I was gone too; I knew papa was right. Hurting other people hadn’t made my hurt go away. I cried then for my loss, just sat in a heap and cried until there was nothing left inside. Then I went back up to the house and I told my father I was sorry and he was right and that I was resigning the service as soon as I got back.
He gave me a hug and said, “That’s real good Susie; I could do with some help around here…” Then he frowned and said, “if you’re coming home I mean.”
I said sure I was; women had run the place for a hundred years and men surely couldn’t do it on their own. Then we cried together for the first time since mamma had left us.
So I left the service. It was quicker than I thought. We had one more combat patrol and I was finished. I didn’t have to go out; once they knew I was leaving they offered me work around the base till it was time to go home. It wouldn’t have felt right though and what if whoever had taken my place didn’t make it? How would I have felt then? It was a bad patrol to end on. My squad lost three in a fire fight lasting maybe a minute, good men, two of them.
So I headed home. As I finally walked up the track to the house a car came fast the other way and would have hit me if I hadn’t moved. There were two military men inside and a driver. I stepped to the side and saluted and they just blanked me, looked right through me. ‘Officers!’ I thought, only I put a couple of stronger words in front, but I was too concerned about brushing the dust off and reaching the house to pay it any real mind. Whatever they wanted I surely wasn’t going back.
I’d timed it well and the sun was setting over the water as I reached the house. I was torn between going down to the river and going in the house but I wanted to see papa and tell him I was back.
I went and stood at the open porch door.
“Papa, I’m home”, I said, “home for good.”
He was sitting at the table, looking out and down to the river and there were tears in his eyes. He balled his fist and rubbed his eyes.
“It’s alright papa”, I said. “Don’t be sad. I’m not going away again, not ever.”
He rubbed his eyes hard again and said, real quiet, “Well Susie, you really are coming home at last. I guess there’ll be two of you down by the river now.”
I turned to follow his gaze. The sun was low and the light seemed brighter than ever, so bright at first I couldn’t make anything out. Then I saw her, halfway between the house and the water. She was looking right at me and smiling. This time she waited for me as I walked on down and held out her hand. She led me to the river bank and we were just two girls standing by the timeless water together. We didn’t have to talk; we just stood there the way we used to and watched the river and the river flowed on.
