Photo by israel palacio on Unsplash
“Sang on Thursday nights
At the Route 5 honky tonk
Of rhinestone and lace
Is all she ever talked...
May, 27, 2017: My cousin Tammi called and left a voicemail. It was odd to hear someone say my name in the same accent as you. She said you passed away after heart failure and that she was calling because Dad didn't want to speak to me. I should have been surprised but I wasn't. We both knew him. I went by the water and sang for you. Just like we used to do. A Tanya tune. I sometimes wonder if you heard it.
June 13, 2015: You had said you'd rather me be alone than "you know what." But I got married to him anyway. You would have said that there wasn't enough country music playing and that the cole slaw wasn't better than yours. I would have agreed with you.
December 12, 2013: I called to tell you that I got engaged because I felt that it was the right thing to do. Obviously, it wasn't but I was proud to tell you that someone chose me. The last words I ever said to you were, "I'm sorry you feel that way" but I actually really wasn't sorry. I was disappointed. Later that night, I went to a holiday party and cried in a bathroom. You knew the buttons to push because you created them.
May 16, 2010: You left a voicemail saying that you were mad because you heard me call you a "motherfucker" after I hung up from talking with you. I knew it was 70% the pills and 30% you. I told the story to a few friends thinking it was kind of funny. No one laughed.
To her those dirt floors
Sparkled like the Ryman
When she touched the mic
She felt like someone...
December 25, 2008: You bought me that scratchy Walmart clearance sweater. It was punishment and you knew it. I laugh about that sometimes. We're so similar. I wrote you a song called, "Queen of Country." You told me to cut it because you thought it was that good but I think you just liked it because it was about you.
February 5, 2006: You called to tell me that you didn't mean to forget my birthday. Even though I knew that you did. You said the card was in the mail. I'm still waiting on it.
October 12, 2005: I borrowed my boyfriend's busted Bronco to drive back home to you. We sat in the musty living room in the same frayed chairs that we used to sit and watch Oprah when I was a teenager. As the words fumbled out, you stared at me like a wild fox. I asked if you had always known this about me. You only smiled and replied, "In the name of Jesus Christ, don't tell your father."
You could say Dolly if that’s what you want to do
Telling Jolene off could always pull you through
You could say Tammy but I wish you never would
Standing by your man sometimes isn’t good
If you knew what I knew then you’d agree
My Momma was the queen of country”
Mike "Soda" Canter is currently at work on a collection of short stories and a debut album about his family's experiences in a small water community called Morgantown. He lives in Wilmington, North Carolina with his husband Ron and dog Esme. You can follow his journey on Instagram @sodacanter.