When was it? Maybe 1954? She and her little brother, Johnny, were deep within a Rosebay and Laurel thicket where the water cascades down the side of Wiley Arms Mountain, interrupted by ancient rocks, slick with life, hiding strange and brilliant creatures. Mother Gravity pulling at the cold mountain water into her subterranean aquifer. Life. Abundant Life. Waterdogs, Tadpoles, Mudpuppies, Crawdads. These treasures awaited my Mother and her mean little brother, Johnny, somewhere down in Gobey, where Wiley Arms shed her cold water.
The rocks were slick and she slipped. She fell hard, her head absorbing most all of the impact on the mountain stone. It would cause her to vomit a few minutes later. She pled for Johnny to help her, but he had zeroed in on the motherlode of aquatic life: a rare blue crawdad. "Johnny, help me up and back to the house. I'm getting sick."
"Mary Sue, I swear I would but I'm about to catch me a big blue one."
That's all she remembered. She was sick for days. She never quite got over it by her own admission.
