THE MYSTERY COUPLE...

THE MYSTERY COUPLE

As a little girl growing up in the Smoky Mountains of Western North Carolina I had the privilege of growing up in same house my Daddy was born in. His parents built this home in 1899. His sister, Ruth was born in our house in 1900. In 1917, my Daddy was born in this house. I was a later in life child as my Daddy was 45 years old when I was born.

My Daddy and Mama inherited our home upon the death of Daddy's mama, Callie Dickey. Her husband passed away in the late 1940's. For some reason, my parents decided not to part with some of the items collected over the years. We did not use the upstairs of our mountain home built of oak and secured on a foundation of local river rocks. Our home had a tin roof and when it rained the sound was glorious to me. I loved climbing the narrow stairs on rainy days to search through old trunks, play with antiques such as my grandmother's sewing machine, boxes of old records, and an old stovepipe hat once worn by a grandfather I never knew. My greatest joy however came from reading old postcards, letters, and gazing at interesting photos.

Maybe I was about seven or eight. I found the photo pictured above. Immediately, I was intrigued. I stood there amid dust, hail pounding on our roof, and a collection of old medicine bottles. I gazed at this couple. The man was looking intently at the lady. She was focused on the camera. He held a hat in one hand. Her hands were stuffed in her pockets. Behind them the mystery revealed a tree and a lovely pair of horses with an attached buggy. Turning the photo over in my hands I looked for a name, place, anything. There was nothing.

I recall retreating to another room upstairs where the antique phonograph with a lion painted on the front and the feather bed rested. I loved the feather bed. Mama said it was stuffed with goose feathers. When it rained, I loved lying there in a soft cocoon of protection as the rain pelted the tin and thunder clapped. My Grandma Anderson said thunder was the devil beating his wife. 

It seemed forever I sat there curiously wondering about the day this picture was snapped. Did they get married on this day? Were they coming home from church? Perhaps they were siblings. I wanted to know their story. I did not ask my parents about the photo. I was afraid they might be upset I was snooping. When the rain stopped, I went downstairs and placed the small photo in my jewelry box. I did not want the picture to be upstairs gathering dust anymore. 

When I left for college, I took my beloved jewelry box with me. It was never fancy or big, but it had a ballerina that danced around when you opened the lid. Years later, the jewelry box finally fell apart, and I discarded it. I placed this prized photo in a new one. This picture has gone with me to six different states where I have lived. I never was able to toss it.

I once showed this photo to my Mama when she was about 80. She had no idea who the people were. I regret not asking my Daddy before he passed away. Perhaps they were relatives or friends of his parents. Today, I honor this photograph by sharing it. I have gazed at it so many times over the years. The photographer captured something that speaks to me. I have so many questions. There seem to be no answers. Yet, I love this picture. I always will.