It's my mother's birthday and the music
is turned up loud.
Her cousins all around her-the way it was
before she left
The same cousins she played with as a girl.
Remember the time, they ask,
When we stole Miz Carter's peach pie off her windowsill,
got stuck in that ditch down below Todd's house,
climbed that fence and snuck into Greenville pool,
weren't scared about getting arrested either, shoot!
nobody telling us were we can and can't swim!
And she laughs, remembering it all.
On the radio, Sam Cooke is singing
"Twistin' the Night Away";
Let me tell you 'bout a place
Somewhere up-a New York way
The cousins have come from as far as Spartanburg
the boys dressed in skinny-legged pants,
the girls in flowy skirts that swirl out, when they spin
twisting the night away.
Cousin Dorothy's fiance, holding tight to her hand
as they twist
Cousin Sam dancing with Mama, ready to catch her
if she falls, he says
and my mother remembers being a little girl,
looking down
scared from a high-up tree
and seeing her cousin there-waiting.
Here they have a lot of fun
Puttin' trouble on the run
Twistin' the night away.
I knew you weren't staying up North, the cousins say,
You belong here with us.
My mother throws her head back,
her newly pressed and curled hair gleaming
her smile the same one she had
before she left for Columbus.
She's Mary Anne Irby again. Georgianna and Gunnar's
youngest daughter.
She's home.