Sit A Spell

Sit A Spell

Recently while I navigated the streets of Atlanta Georgia, I found myself in a very precarious situation and had to “leave home” to "find my way back home". I realized that the answers to my moment of life's complexities were hidden within a recent trip down south and my situation was easily solved at the baseline of a common and simple object: a stop sign at the crossroads.

I took a trip once with a friend to New Orleans Louisiana. Our week-long Mardi Gras vacation was winding down and both of us were making headway checking off items from our “must see-must do” list, but we just couldn’t fit it all in. He couldn’t go back to Atlanta without us stopping by his Uncle Earl and Aunt Willie Mae’s place and my road trip fetish for visiting coffee shops in the quaint towns (and I had not visited not) one in New Orleans were the last on the list. Though my friend promised we would get to visit one before we headed back, all he could offer was a 30-minute wait in the Starbucks drive-thru inside the city of New Orleans. After a dozen rear-view mirror shouts to “get off your phone and move ups” and a double-dozen “I hate drive-thrus” mumbles, we hit the highway with a Carmel Macchiato and a cold water (he definitely didn’t need any caffeine) headed for Uncle Earl’s.

An hour’s drive in we abruptly stopped, pulled over to the shoulder and without notice or explanation my friend put his drop-top Beamer in reverse and gunned it backwards a couple hundred feet. I held onto my Marti Gras sunhat in between cussing and swallowing a mouth full of the Louisiana dirt as he screeched to a stop. We had passed Uncle Earl’s exit.

The exit ramp brought us to an intersection he sat for a minute. I was calm (after that Dale Earnhardt in reverse move) and waited for him to scan his surroundings.

“I betcha ya thought I was lost didn’t ya?”

He made a quick left and navigated through the city lights and left the city and we soon found ourselves on a two-lane road with miles and miles of sugar cane growing high on both sides. No cars, houses or signs; anywhere. We drove another 10 minutes and finally resting at a very "small crossroad" and a stop sign. My friend looked left, then right, then at me. GPS didn't mean anything because my friend never knew their '"address", as a kid he always just "went".

A short conversation between Uncle and nephew concluded:

"What did Uncle Earl say?", I asked with a little concern. Uncle Earl's directional advice was my life-changing moment 20 years later.

"Whitcha-ever-way you 'spose a be a-going, it'll come to ya. Sit a spell. If a bunch-a folks start piling up behind ya honking they horns, ain't no tellin' where ya at. I ain't nowhere near nobody that be spouting off like dem city folks! If there ain't nobody behind ya, then you headin' good. Sit a spell nephew. Ain't nobody gonna tell you whitch-ever-way you 'spose to go, you just gotta know. You been knowin' ya way all dem years, nuttin' good gone ever leave ya. And tell that pretty lil' thing sittin' next to ya, ain't nuttin' to worry 'bout. She gotta good strong smart Black man behind da wheel. Put down that talkin' machine and know where you came from son. Na', Imma be sittin' on the porch waitin' for ya when ya git here. No doubt, you gonna arrive b'fo long.!

When life removes you from those "familiar roads" that for so long had been refreshing as "Sunday drives in the country", and the shade trees start to thin out and all you see ahead of you are complicated "ramps, bridges and toll roads", you may find yourself "sitting a spell" until you arrive. And someone that loves you dearly is on "the porch" waiting.