I lean up against a tree, my fingers tracing over the scorpion tattooed on my forearm through the sheer fabric of my black undershirt. There are a good amount of adults here to pick up their kids today, probably because the weather is so nice now that summer is on the horizon. A few of the moms and dads I recognize from my days growing up here and some of them I couldn’t pick out of a lineup if I tried, but everyone gets a friendly wave and a smile from me nonetheless.
Once upon a time, I used to feel like I wanted to crawl out of my skin when I would enter the Fox Hole town limits. I was always that kid who couldn’t wait to turn eighteen, graduate high school, and get the hell out of town. My sense of wanderlust, coupled with the way I always felt just slightly off at the edge while everyone else was dancing together in the middle, had my feet itching. After graduation, I wasted no time hopping in my car and seeing as much of the world as I could while practicing my craft, but I always came back.
Not to Fox Hole, but to Delilah. Because no matter where in the world I’ve been, no matter where I lay my head at night, Delilah has always been my home. And after almost twenty years of exploring,it’s time to come home for good. Delilah might think I’m temporarily giving up my life in Nashville to play house with her for now, but the truth is I have no plans to return to the city permanently.
A few days with Sadie and Delilah always remind me I need them as much as they need me, and I’m ready to put roots down. It’s going to take time to get my life in order and figure out what the hell I’m going to do here. For now, I’ll keep my ambitions and my change-of-address forms to myself.
If there’s one thing I know Delilah hates, it's uncertainty, and she has enough of that in her life right now. I’m not going to tell her my plans until I know for sure what’s what.
The side door of the building bursts open and a sea of little kids with backpacks almost as big as their little bodies comes pouring out. I know the kindergarteners and first graders will be first, but it doesn’t stop me from searching the crowd for my Sadie girl, anyway. And when the second graders come out a few minutes later, it only takes my girl a moment to spot me amongst the adults and come running as fast as her legs will carry her. My heart leaps out of my chest, my whole body overcome with the warm and fuzzies that I only get from this kid’s unconditional love.
I crouch down, watching Sadie sprint towards mein a flurry of purple from her shirt to her shoes, the golden-brown strands of her frizzing hair flying wildly from the braid I styled it in this morning while she ate her cereal.
“Vee Vee! You’re picking me up from school?” Sadie’s smile is wide and toothy, her baby teeth sitting crooked or completely missing, making way for the adult teeth just starting to break through her gums. There’s something smudged on her cheek, maybe chocolate from the pudding in her lunch box or mud from the playground, evidence either way of a day well spent. Her chestnut eyes have the same sparkle in them as her mama’s. Somehow Sadie looks exactly like the scrunched-up newborn I held while sitting next to Delilah in a hospital bed all those years ago, and also like a little person who is growing up way too fast for my liking.
“I am! Mama had some errands to run, so I asked if we could have some Vee Vee and Sadie time this afternoon.”
She squeals and jumps up and down, sending loose glitter from her sneakers raining onto the grass below her feet.
“Can we play Switch together?”
“After I check your take-home folder for homework and get a snack in your belly, we can do whatever you want.”
Sadie throws her arms around my neck, and even though she’s just this side of too big for me to carry, I lift her up anyway.
“Can we…watch a movie?”
“Of course. I’ll even let you pick this time.”
“Can we…color your tattoos?” I swear, my heart grows three sizes in my chest like I’m the freaking Grinch who stole Christmas at her request. Ever since Sadie could hold a marker in her hands, she has loved using my inked-up body as her own coloring book. It’s one of our favorite pastimes, me sitting still while Sadie creates art on my tattooed skin. I don’t know why she likes it so much; maybe because it’s the only time she’s allowed to color on anything but paper or some other craft material. But for me, it’s soothing. It’s a bonding experience for us, and over the years as her skills and hand dexterity improve, I become more convinced that the kid could make one hell of a tattoo artist someday. And if she ever does want to follow in my path, I’ll offer myself up as her first guinea pig.
Subconsciously, that might be why I’ve kept parts of my body ink-free, so that Sadie will have a blank canvas to work with if the time comes. Basically, any part of me that is hidden by shirts or long pants is covered. I’ve either tattooed myself or gotten work done over the years, but my arms are almostcompletely bare. The only exception is my right hand, where dahlias and Sadie cape primrose flowers bloom for my two best girls.
Even when Sadie is too old to want to color me in, I’ll never mark myself with anything but black ink, just in case.
“Absolutely, Sadie Girl. In fact, I have some new tattoos on the back of my shoulder since the last time we hung out,” I say, referring to the two koi fish I added to my right shoulder, directly below the collar of my t-shirt a few months back.
“What about donuts? Can we go to Miss Pattie’s and get strawberry donuts? And jelly, too? Please, please, please?” Sadie begs, and I chuckle.
“I’ll tell you what. If you promise me you’ll eat ten baby carrots when we get home, then we can stop at Miss Pattie’s.” Sadie squeals, and I put her back on the ground, turning and patting my shoulder. She takes the hint and jumps on my back for a piggyback ride. “We’ll even get something special for dessert that we can share with Mama later. How’s that sound?”
The walk down Main Street feels like moving through a time capsule. Some things have changed—the boba tea shop and pilates studio certainly weren’t around when I was in high school—but for the most part, Fox Hole looks exactly the same as it alwayshas. Miss Pattie’s bakery, the liquor barn, the tiny grocery store that never has fresh avocados in stock are all just as I remember them, remnants of a simpler time and pillars of this small town community. I used to find the wholesome, Hallmark-movie vibes sickening, but after years of living in a city—even a small one like Nashville—I get the appeal of a slower, quieter existence.
Sadie hops off my back as we approach the bakery and sprints through the door, sending the bell chiming wildly.
“Miss Pattie!” she squeals, her backpack bouncing behind her as she skids to a stop in front of the glass display full of colorful cakes, cookies, and pastries. Miss Pattie, a stout woman with gray hair and a round belly, who I believe to be as old as the mountain Fox Hole was built below, beams at Sadie from over the counter.
“Miss Sadie! I haven’t seen you in so long!”
“Me and Mama were just here on Thursday!” Sadie giggles and I swear, it’s the most precious sound in the entire universe.
And soon, there’s going to be another one of her. She’s going to have a brother or sister who will laugh and scream and cry and glide through life just like she does now.
Fuck, I can’t wait.
“I know, but that’s too long to go without seeing my favorite purple princess. Are you here for a strawberry donut?”
“Sadie Girl is my favorite purple princess too. Can you throw in some eclairs and a couple of those fruit tarts, too?” I add, and that’s when Miss Pattie finally notices me standing there.
