My mother had described Jerry Knight to me every which way she could, I could hear the enthusiasm in her voice describing an eloquent Houstonite who had up and decided to become a rancher. I remember getting an email with a picture of him in a button up shirt, tucked in to jeans, boots, and a cowboy hat on. I giggled thinking of a farmer with a shovel, posed for some old-timey picture. After getting to know him, I was a little off with the farmer judgement, he was much, much more than that. My mother went to meet him and was thrilled to have found a birth parent that she could identify with and feel a natural closeness to. Soon after he came to see me perform a show in Dallas and I had met him for the first time in the lobby of the theatre. We embraced and I felt like he was truly happy to be meeting me; he wasn't just putting on a show. For once I didn't feel like I was playing second fiddle to my Mom, as I had felt meeting her birth mother.
I was charmed to spend the evening with him, he had one of those voices, a gruff yet gentle whisper that makes people want to listen even closer, as to not miss a word he said. I could see in his piercingly blue eyes, the depth of his soul, there was so much knowledge and wisdom in his eyes. But I also saw something else, a tint of desperation, I could see a longing for something that he never knew was missing until these moments after meeting my Mom and I, the two little girls he never knew he had.
I am quite a guarded soul, after being verbally abused growing up, from multiple sources in my life, I don't let people in easily; Jerry was no exception. I put on a sweet face and talked lightly about my life, but after a few beers, my guard was slipping, and I teared up thinking about how my ex-fiance (that I had just recently broke things off with) would never meet this amazing man. I was intrigued by him, but cautious and it wasn't until my trip to Camelot, to see Jerry in his natural environment, that I began to let my walls down and have feelings toward him.
When we pulled in the drive to Camelot I felt a sense of comfort, but it wasn't until I woke up the next day that I really began to feel the magic of that place, looking around at the flowers, trees, baby animals, and running river you can sense the feeling of new beginnings. But, the wisdom of time has aged the land to perfection and you can sense electricity in the air reminiscent of good times that have come and gone over the years in that rustic fairy-tale kingdom.
I met Jerry's beautiful and hysterical little gal, Susan and she suggested I get the tour. Jerry showed me around his realm and I listened quietly as he told me stories about what took place there at Camelot. The little vegetable garden, where again I got a picture in my head of Jerry with a shovel, reaping his crops. Open fields that I learned were once filled and plentiful, a quaint and beautiful home lost to a fire with vines and bamboo overgrowing the sides. This amazing place was overflowing with old tales from the past, and it was evident everywhere you looked.
I could see the sense of longing again in his eyes while he spoke of the past, and I wondered if he was picturing what it would have been like long ago with my mother there by his side, I could easily picture my 6 year old mother, walking down to the creek with her Pop and a fishing pole, not letting him get a word in edge-wise. I quickly clear my mind thinking, it wouldn't be MY Mom if she had been here back then and everything happened the way it was supposed to. I wouldn't trade anyone or anything for my grandparents and the days I got to spend with them on the beaches of Galveston, but sitting by the edge of this beautiful swimming hole with Jerry I couldn't help but think about what it would have felt like to have my grandfather live to see me grow up, and if we had known Jerry how much fun I would have had running around out here as a little girl, while my Pop kept a weary eye on me with my carefree spirit in all my childhood glory.
I am so happy for my Mom and that finally she has solved the mystery of where she came from, I hope it fulfills her in a way nothing else could have. Sometimes I feel just as lost as she did, thinking about what could of or might have been, for as much as she felt like there was something missing in her life, I feel that way too. I still feel my soul aching for some closure in many different areas of my life, but I assume that's the plight of growing up. I am still searching for what will fill my holes, and hopefully one day I will find them. All I can say is that Jerry, my Pop, must carry a big shovel, because he's done a good job filling a place in my Mom's heart and mine that I don't think anyone else could have touched.
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