When my Mom and Dad got married in the summer of 1974 they settled into the Dawson Village in Dawson Springs, Kentucky. Dawson Village was already the home to many family members and it seemed like a good place to make their start. An apartment filled with shower gifts and the beginning of a journey that is still going on almost thirty six years later. In 1975 they purchased the house that my sister and I grew up in on Rosedale Lane, at the time our mail would have read:
Mr. & Mrs. Eddie Storms
Route 3 Box 560
Dawson Springs, Kentucky 42408
There are so many memories that surround that address and as I drift back I am pleased to go back down memory lane. Our neighbor Pearl Nichols is part of several of those family memories, but we all referred to her as Mrs. Nichols (pronounced: Miss).
Mrs. Nichols might have been one of the sweetest people that I've ever met. She was a gardener, a cook, a wife and a mother. A God - fearing southern woman who was right next door sweeping her carport or tending her garden. Her hair was snow white and in a bun, but in the evenings she would sit on her porch and comb it out, and that would remind me of an angel.
Over the years she taught my family many life lessons. When I think about it now, I am sure she looked at my folks as two young people heading down a path that she had already taken. I bet she enjoyed seeing our home and yard filled with activity and love, because it reminded her of when her boys were at home and their home too sheltered those same types of "good times."
Tall maples surrounded our houses and shaded our lawns. She often told me that her husband, Herman, had went into the forest and gathered the ones in her yard when they were young trees and she had lived to see them grow. Now those trees are huge and as far as I know they are still there.
Mrs. Nichols paid me to get her mail out of her box on the street and bring it up to the house. When important mail was expected I was sure to see her waiting at the door to make sure I didn't drop anything. She often hired me to sweep her carport, or do something here or there for her.
The funny thing is that I don't remember ever hugging Mrs. Nichols, we were neighbors and I guess it wasn't necessary. But I had a admiration and affection for her that was known and reciprocated. Over the years my Mom and Dad had exchanged favors with Mrs. Nichols and it was clear that Mom and Dad, Shannon and I all cared about her.
Two yards linked by invisible lines - two women's kitchen windows facing one another - doing things that they both were born to do. Mom use to remark that "you could eat off Mrs. Nichols lawn it was so tidy," and it was. She new every plant and tree on her property, she knew almost all the ones on ours.
Mrs. Nichols looked out for us in her way, and we did for her in ours, that's what neighbors do. We lived in the kind of world that when Mom and Dad were "team cooking," as I like to refer to it and they needed and egg or a cup of sugar - I would run next door and borrow it from Mrs. Nichols. Knowing that the next time we went to Davis' Grocery I would be taking a cup of sugar or egg back across the yard to replace the ones that we had borrowed.
Over the years I saw Dad cut her grass when he cut ours a hundred times. Or Mom and Dad meeting her in the middle of the yards just to talk or to see how she was doing.
Mrs. Nichols...what a memory.
Well you all know by now that I am a softy for my hometown and for my memories. Today as she often does Pearl Nichols popped into my head. A memory of a friend that I knew so long ago. To think I never her hugged her, or maybe I did and didn't remember? It must have been an unspoken love and appreciation and it was surely sensed.
Mrs. Nichols died several years ago, and boy did that hurt me. Someone else bought her house and things happen the way they always do. My sister and I went off to college and moved on. Mom and Dad bought a house across town and have lived there for several years now. But in the beginning when we were four on Route 3, we had an awesome little life with a perfect neighbor. Things happen for a reason and now that our family is made up of seven we are richer still.
I think that Mrs. Nichols would be proud to know that she is often brought up at our table. Fond memories of a lady that touched our lives ever so gracefully. A soft-spoken friend with the wisdom of life, faith and happiness. Isn't it nice to know those types of people? Don't we want to be those kinds of neighbors?
When I look back I can see Dad grilling steaks on our grill in the back yard and Mom cooking in the kitchen. Shannon and I in and out of the house for one reason or another and Mrs. Nichols sweeping that carport - we co-existed quite nicely. What a blessing!
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