Over the weekend, we were in my little hometown for the annual memorial service at the cemetery.
I noticed that Miss Annie Rose’s homeplace had been torn down and all signs of it were gone. This was done so recently, the bulldozer was still on site.
Miss Annie Rose was one of our neighbors and lived less than a quarter mile from Mom and me. She was a member of our church and worked in the school cafeteria.
During my childhood, Miss Annie Rose had a white long-haired cat named Cotton. When Mom and I would visit, Cotton would always let me pet her. Miss Annie Rose said that Cotton didn’t do that with other children: she’d hide under the bed when they came. She said that I was gentle, and Cotton could tell that I loved kitties.
Miss Annie Rose was the bus driver during my elementary school years. She knew that the other kids
picked on me teased me bullied me, so she let me sit on the heater beside her. I felt safe there. Miss Annie Rose was a familiar face among many strangers.
In this post from last year, I mentioned that, on afternoons when a funeral was taking place at the cemetery, Miss Annie Rose would tell us about it when we boarded the bus for home. As we rounded the curve just before the cemetery, she would remind us, and, immediately, there was silence on the bus.
On the last day of school (one year? Maybe more?), Miss Annie Rose stopped at the Tastee Freeze on the way home and treated each of us to an ice cream cone.
Miss Annie Rose died suddenly in 1982 at the age of 84. It was said that she was extremely upset and had gone out in the yard to chase an animal that was attacking her chickens. My mom always thought that, if that were true, it was sad to think that Miss Annie Rose had died angry.
I’m glad I stopped last year and took a picture of her home.
It’s amazing how many memories came to mind just seeing the demolition of one little house.
~These Days Of Mine~