Full Speed Ahead: My Journey with Kit

It is exhausting to go from house to house. I begin to have a grudging respect for Serena, who mulishly plods up and down each hill. She may not be as friendly and adorable as Buddy, but she is steady and willing, mile after mile. It’s impressive to see.

It’s also impressive to see how the Waste-Not, Want-Not Almanac works its magic over and over again. After the McCorkles, an old lady named Granny Green dictates directions for making soap with honey. Then we offer her a book about bees. After that, a man sketches how to make a cornhusk broom and his wife shows us how to make a cornhusk doll. That couple borrows a book of stories to read aloud to their children. The next woman writes advice about how to care for babies in exchange for a book of fairy tales. By the end of the day, we’ve added directions for making ointments, medicines, and dyes from plants; recipes, tips, and family stories; and sketches for making everything from wooden bed frames to carved whistles.

By the time we’re climbing up the last hill back to the cabin, I’m dragging my feet. Aunt Millie suggests that I rid on Serena. She won’t mind now that the books are gone. Me on a mule? I don’t think so! I’m about to say no when Serena hee-haws and gives me one of her looks. This time, it seems as if she is saying, “Climb on!”

So I take a deep breath, and I do. I feel like a queen on Serena’s back. Her steps are steady and sure, and soon the gentle swaying of her back from side to side lulls me into feeling relaxed.

When we get home, Buddy and Miss Myrtle come outside to greet us. Kit shows off how full the Almanac is now, and how empty the saddlebags are. I tell Miss Myrtle that people felt good about borrowing books when they could give something in return by contributing to the Almanac.

Miss Myrtle responds that the Waste-Not, Want-Not Almanac is a clever book, and Aunt Millie adds that we’re clever girls. Today, we stood up to the Depression and won.

That night, when everyone else is asleep, I hear an owl hooting. It sounds far away, and I find myself wondering if anybody we met today is hearing it, too. I think about how the people here in Mountain Hollow taught me the true meaning of dignity and generosity. Good old Serena taught me about stick-to-itiveness. And Kit showed me a whole new way to think about creativity. Now I know it is not only clever to make the best of what you have, but it is also fun.

The owl hoots again, and its mournful call echoes my bittersweet feelings. I know it is time for me to go home. I have loved all that Kit has shared with me, and I know I will never forget our adventures together.

The next morning, a tall farmer stops by our cabin in his rickety truck. He says his mother, Granny Green, sent him to give Kit and me a ride to the depot so we can catch the train back to Cincinnati. As a “thank you” for delivering the books yesterday.

Kit and I look at Aunt Millie and Miss Myrtle, and all four of us have tears in our eyes. I stoop down, pick up Buddy, and hand him to Aunt Millie. I ask if Buddy can stay here. He loves Aunt Millie and Miss Myrtle, and even Serena. The women exchange a look, and Aunt Millie says they’ll be happy to have him.

We all hug and say goodbye, and then Kit and I climb into the truck and off we go, rattling down the steep, narrow, rutted road to the train depot. Aunt Millie has given us money for our tickets, and before we know it, we are safely seated on the train. The train clacks along the tracks, and in a short while, we are back at Union Station in Cincinnati. Kit begins to lead me outside, but I hold back.

I explain that I can get home from here. It’s time for me to go. I thank her for everything, and tell her that I’ll always remember her. Kit hugs me hard. She whispers goodbye, and then walks quickly out of the station into the sunshine. When she is gone, I click the camera and go home.

When Mom comes into my room, she finds me on the floor, busily cutting apart old clothes. Some are clothes I’ve found at secondhand stores and some are clothes that I’ve outgrown. I explain that I’m making a patchwork quilt. When asks if I know how to make a quilt, I shake my head. But it’ll sure be fun to figure it out. In fact, maybe we should go to the public library. I bet there’s a book there that can teach me quilting.

Mom smiles. That’s quite a clever idea.