Donnie talked about Pocahontas County all the time. Camping there. I wasn’t interested. We were neck deep in converting the barn and my whole life was a primitive camping trip. I didn’t think I needed to wander into the Wild and Wonderful to experience more awkward cooking attempts and uncomfortable sleeping arrangements. My life was full of such.
She continued to wax poetic. Lyrical, an ode to the Williams River and I told her I was sure it was beautiful. But declined.
And then she was diagnosed with breast cancer. And then it metastasized before we were even able to process the news.
She wanted a last trip to the river. And we agreed to go along.
Come hear me read! I’ll be reading from my essays for the Museum of the American Military Museum as well as from my memoir and novel (both in progress) and my blog. If you have a military background of any sort, the readings may provoke nostalgia. If you don’t, you’ll get a glimpse into a world you didn’t know existed.
The bio in the photo reads:
Connie Kinsey is a former military brat who has put down deep roots in a converted barn on a dirt road at the top of a hill in West Virginia. She is pursuing happiness, one cup of coffee at a time. Her award-winning writing has been published online and in print.
She is also a spoken word artist and the Writer-in-Residence for the Museum of the American Military Family. Connie has blogged at https://wvfurandroot.com since 2008 and is wild about comments. You can reach her by email at c_kinsey@frontier.com or on Facebook at http;//www.facebook.com/ConnieKinseyWriter. Her Twitter handle is TRConnie.
The two of us, Charlene and me, were either giddy or angry, one or the other, at this stage of life. Of course, we were. We were 13 and hormonal as only pubescent teenagers can be.
The air smelled of fried foods and popcorn, horse manure, and the first hint of cool, crisp autumn days. It was October in coastal Carolina and the heat was waning. We actually had long sleeves on.
The sound of barkers, the music from the individual rides, the roar of the roller coaster. Our senses were on high alert with all the stimuli – the smells, the sounds, the feel of cool air and a breeze rippling our long hair. – Charlene was a blonde, and I was a brunette — both of us impossibly skinny and tall.
The night of the carnival we were giddy – in love with life, comfortable in our friendship, full of laughter, and looking to meet our true loves. Or at least someone interesting.
I’m standing on the beach at Kaneohe Air Station. I’m 9. The wind blows my hair, and the sun has warmed the smooth lava beneath my feet. The sky is blue but also filled with clouds and the ever-present Hawaiian rainbow. The tidepools are full after the liquid sunshine that we called the short rains of a typical Hawaiian day. I am alone and reveling in my newfound freedom. I am allowed to roam. And I do. I pick my way…
Down the aisle of the school bus. He is sitting on the back bench. I think he is saving a seat for me. We will hold sweaty hands too shy to look at one another…
I look up and see my first love ambling down the street carrying a large heart-shaped box of Whitman chocolates. I scramble down the apple tree and race to him, engulfing and engulfed in a hug as expansive as…
The back pasture of a farm in East Lynn. The hay is green, and the Appalachian sky is crystalline it’s so clear. Again, I am alone. I am free to roam, but my life allows so few alone times that I relish them. The daisies, nearly three feet tall, are blooming. I have a paper due but I’m in love with…
The passion of my life. We stand on the pier at Okauchee Lake. He towers over me. His piercing blue eyes soft for once and the cold night whipping his dark hair around. He leans down to kiss me after I say yes and his beard scratches my face, but I love it. I love him, but we don’t marry. Fate intervenes and…
W. Va. Fur and Root 