The View from Here

Georgia

WRITTEN BY RIC MANDES

GGeorgia is a special place. Asleep in these homes gracing my country arcade are the folks who

A ride home at midnight through the back roads of South will rise early, very Southern, and who will slip quietly outside while Georgia... children remain in that easy cache of slumber.

You put it on “cruise.” You find a station that plays Willie. And you They will walk to the edge of the road and look both ways. They will lean back with a solid moon, filling long stretches of fields in their take in the frost-covered earth. They’ll notice a different car sitting at winter’s sleep. I move through small towns --- Guyton, Egypt. Colonial a neighbor’s house. “Might be Joe’s son in for a day or two. He’s been homes are guarded by tall sentinel pines. Orchards of pecan trees emexpecting him anytime now.” brace the night. Soon, the aroma of coffee will fill the kitchen. Maybe a fire in a

To my right, in ballet pose, are frolicking fawns. They have been pot-bellied stove will roar warmth. Soon, children will be awakened grazing on the edge of the woods. gently --- “Time for school. You have thirty minutes before the bus

Darkness offers them contentment. Quiet complements their chocomes. rus. This venture for them is fun. So get a move on.”

I chose not to understand how any one of them can fill a gunsight I glide into another hamlet. A rent-a-sign’s glow is the only thing and be brought “to earth.” alive. It says, “We now have videos at Jimmy’s.” A few miles into town

In the distance, a night train crossing the road initiates red lights I see Jimmy’s. It is a service station. blinking. I watch the “wagons” roar by, coming from someplace I don’t The final minutes are filled with the moon again bouncing off trees know. Headed for somewhere I don’t know. But at this very minute, in and scattering patterns across the road. I drive through those patterns the night of South Georgia, we are companions. as a pilot moves his craft through thin graceful clouds.

I move further. I feel bathed and good.

I pass mobile homes tucked into pastoral corners of God’s earth. I Soon the lights of my town blink far down the road. Willie is singing know in the spring this corner comes alive with the corsage beauty of “Angels Flying too Close to the Ground.” wisteria, of azaleas, of dogwoods. This Georgia Land is special. These Georgia folk are quite special.

Tonight it is lighted gently by moonbeams. And it is beautiful. I have experienced the beauty of being alone, with my thoughts, back

This is Georgia Land. roads, the moon, and Willie..... S