I can still feel the texture of this floor on the soles of my bare feet.
How many mornings did I wake up early, much earlier than if I had been at home, and walk in my bare feet across that kitchen floor, my eyes puffy with sleep and "bed-head" hair sticking up all over my head? For some reason, I never wanted to roll over and go back to sleep when I was there. It was time to wake up.
She might have been in her chair with her Bible and Guidepost in her lap. She might have been standing at the kitchen sink washing a few dishes that I had messed up the night before. Or maybe, if I were lucky, she was standing at the stove cooking bacon, biscuits, and chocolate syrup. I was always lucky.
MawMaw Chaffin's house.
Just the thought of that floor on my soles stirs something in my soul.
But it's not really the floor. I know that.
Her house is for sale now. She got herself a new one.
I bet her new house has pretty floors, too.