When I saw his travel trailer, I was appalled. I shook my head and wondered how on earth the previous owner of this beautiful campground could have allowed such an eyesore to remain there. It was parked at the edge of the woods, surrounded by bits of old lumber from failed attempts to build a serviceable deck, a broken barbecue, discarded cans, and other offal from outdoor cookouts. Vines and weeds encroached from all directions, and the picnic table, provided at every campside as part of the seasonal contract, was off to one side, covered in green moss and soggy leaves. It was a small camper, as campers go, about 18 feet long, weighed down with peeling paint and streaking mud. The windows were grimy and spider-webby, and the whole shebang was trimmed around the bottom with a buckled wooden "skirt" which hid the flat tires on rusty rims. The leaking roof was protected by a well-worn blue tarp tied down with string. The overall effect was Grunge with a capital G.
I knew it was Mr. Smith even from a distance. His body was "S" shaped, with drooping back and bent knees; a tall, very skinny man wearing baggy, dusty pants and a torn Tee. As I drew closer, he looked over at me and smiled, revealing missing teeth both top and bottom, the remainder in varying shades of greenish-yellow with an occasional black stripe. His face was grey, and the bags under his pale eyes were a puffy, dark blue. His voice was flat, but he held out his calloused hand courteously as he introduced himself.
"Ah can't afford this no more," he said softly, "So Ah'm movin' out."
"I'm sorry to hear that," I lied. "When are you planning on towing your trailer away?" I added hastily, just in case he thought he could change his mind.
"Well, if''n ya don' mind, Ah'll leave it here for a coupla weeks in case someone answers mah ad and wants to buy it. Ah'm sellin' for a good price."
"You'll never give it away," I thought ungraciously.
For the next week, Mr. Smith called every night. "Has anybody bin to see mah trailer?" he asked in his monotone.
"I'm sorry, but no," was my inevitable answer.
"Mebbe tomorrow," he intoned hopefully.
"Yeah, right," I snorted inwardly, but I replied, "Let's hope so, shall we?"
"Yes, Ma'am," he said before hanging up.
Every morning as I walked the dog past that eyesore, I cheered myself with the thought that in a few days it would be gone. Such a beautiful spot, absolutely desecrated by that awful looking trailer and the messy people who had parked it there.
There were no buyers. A couple of people came by to look at it, but they didn't stay very long. After a heavy rainstorm, the roof sagged even more, and the mud-encrusted skirt looked even more forlorn.
On the appointed day, Mr. Smith arrived to take his trailer away. A dreadful looking man with a dreadful looking trailer. "Good riddance," I thought.
I found it difficult to hold a conversation with Mr. Smith because, try as I might, his rotting teeth somehow held an unpleasant fascination for my eyes. In addition, I had to stand at a distance so I couldn't smell his sour breath. My discomfort and impatience rose at his every word, spoken so slowly and deliberately.
"Fine day," he began.
"Yes, yes, it is," I agreed.
"Mah fren'll be here soon. He's gonna he'p me tidy up the site some."
After more desultory small talk, Mr. Smith's friend arrived, a small, chubby, sunny-faced creature with a sweet smile. "Mutt and Jeff," I thought balefully when I politely greeted him.
Mr. Smith turned awkwardly to look at his trailer, so I prepared to leave them to get on with their work. It was then that I heard him say quietly to his friend, "If'n you ever git the chance to spend time in these here woods, grab it. The last time Ah spent the night here, Ah heard that ol' hoot owl that lives in that tree over there, callin' and callin'. There wuz a breeze blowin' 'n' the leaves wuz talkin' back to that bird, Ah swear. Ah looked up at Heaven," he continued, more to himself than his listener, "An' I ain't never seen so many stars shinin' all at the same time. It wuz a wonder. Ah allus did feel so calm and peaceful in this place, an' that were the fust night Ah slept well since she died." He paused, "We sure had some ol' times in this ol' trailer."
When I returned two hours later, the men and the trailer were gone. The old barbecue, cans and lumber were also gone, and the picnic table, provided as part of the seasonal contract, had been wiped clean of its burden of leaves.
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