Sweet Home Alabama : A Short Story

Friday, October 12, 2012

Sweet Home Alabama

A short story by myself on my travels to Alabama with J.

     As we drove past Birmingham all the sunny skies of South Carolina had dissipated. Only gun metal gray clouds were left over us that left a distinct chill in the air that screams winter even though it is early October. Our energetic attitudes had long gone after the nearly seven hours in the car. Personally, the sudden dull clouds was what quickly changed the mood.
     When we finally pulled into town we were greeted with three kids starving for attention and a man who was fed up. The three kids were the nephews of my loving man, John. As we walk through the door they scream his name as if they were cheering for him at a sporting event. The man, John's father, quietly shook his head while pealing potatoes over the trash can.
     After a few minutes of yelling due to our arrival, John's father quieted the boys. He was burning up his last nerve. He had been patiently waiting on his wife, John's mother, to come back home with his tobacco fix. While John and I waited on his mother to get home, we listened to the children tell their stories and whine because the other one stole their toy.
     Finally John's mother and his sister Erika, the mother of the three boys, arrived. I was a surprise this trip; his family didn't know I was coming home with him. When the girls came through the door, I hid in the dark back bedroom. As they walked into the dining room, I came out and John's mother squealed with excitement. John had been telling her that I wasn't able to make it this trip.
     The next morning John and I woke up to pancakes cooking in the kitchen. We ate breakfast and got ready for his grandmother's birthday party. We drove separately from John's parents to his grandmothers house. On the way there, we listened to Scotty McCreery. It seemed like it was the perfect day despite the gray cloud cover and chilly weather.