No Words Necessary

I won State with this entry this past fall.

Enjoy.

No Words Necessary

I love words.

I am a word connoisseur.

I subscribe to email services that send me a word a day. I have the dictionary.com app downloaded on my iPod for instant definition lookups.

My father thinks I talk 24 hours a day. My friends hardly get a word in during conversations. I have even been known to talk in my sleep.

But sometimes, just for a few moments in my life, there have been no words necessary, but I knew what was said.

When I have felt the blue sky tickle my toes as my daddy pushed me high on the big rope swing in our yard, I yelled for him to push me higher. But no words were needed to tell him I loved the time he with me.

No words were needed later as I hid from Mama who warned me not to get on that same swing because the rope was wearing thin. But I did. It snapped loudly and slapped my face, giving me a black eye. Mama didn’t even say “I told you so,” when she discovered me, but I knew she was thinking it.

When I have licked huckleberry juice that was running down my arms as I picked them in the Sandhole with my grandmother, Mam-o, no words were necessary to tell her of the tartness that went from my lips to my tummy. I think she knew I changed my mind after I tasted them stewed up with her dumplings drenched in sugar and milk. I grunted a satisfied “Mmm.”

When I sat at Aunt Annie Lee’s landing with Carol Lee no words were necessary to let her know that she would always be my best friend. She knew that was true when I hugged her the afternoon her mama died and told her I would always be there for her.

No words were needed at that same landing one day after school when my second-cousin Tate taunted his dog to “sic me” just to see me get mad. He knows I love him, though, from that hit on the shoulder I gave him last week.

When I spent the night at the Banks in Ruby’s and Julian’s cabin and swatted at buzzing mosquitoes in the dark stillness, I whined to inform my family of my miserable suffering. No words were spoken there, though, when we went back years later and found the scarred remains of the camp after it had been burned to the ground after the federal take-over of Shackleford in 1985.

And I didn’t need to talk when I was the only person at Shell Point a few weeks back at 5 AM watching the meteor shower. I didn’t even say “Wow!” as the blazing stars streaked across the sky. The lapping waves of Back Sound said enough as they sparkled the reflection off their salty surface.

No words were necessary during these times, but one thing is certain, I’ll never forget what was said.