Favorite Memories
I've always known that life is short. But, I truly don't think that I've really grasped the concept until lately. Its enough to really make you want to share what you have within you, so that others will always remember what you had to offer. This especially goes for my children. When Bobby passed away, it was horrible. He was the closest person I have ever lost. I was trying to tell Cade a story that he once told to me, and I couldn't remember all the details, and it was sad, because I really thought I had been listening. I want to share my memories with my kids, and this time, I'm going to write them down, so the details will never be forgotten. This isn't a funny memory, but a memory of something beautiful; a scene and a time I will never forget. Even in my youth, I knew that I needed to imprint this memory in my head to last forever, and so far it has. Now its time to write it down for my kids to enjoy. I hope that I can give even the smallest idea of how it felt, what it looked like, and why it is so important to me. So, here goes...
Our family lived in a two-story brick farmhouse for a few years. We rented this from a farmer who used the land and allowed us to rent the house. It was an older home, with the deep red brick starting to erode slightly. The front yard was dense with overgrown apple trees that bore sweet smelling flowers in the spring, and delicious red apples every fall. The driveway was gravel that led from the road, splitting into a circle around the side yard. In the center of the driveway was a grass circle, and standing upon it was an old beat up wood stove. The stove and I had a history, but that is another memory for another time. If you stood in the driveway and looked to the right, there was an old, sturdy barn. Looking straight was another barn, made specifically for equipment storage. To the left stood our large home.
It was late summer. Comfortably warm and the days were long. Night was setting in, and it was time to take our beautiful German Shepherd named Blackjack out for a final run before bed. Dad asked me if I'd like to tag along, and of course I did. Anything Dad wanted to do, I wanted to do. I was small and scraggly, with long, unkempt blonde hair dangling midway down my back. It was the summer before I went to second grade. Dad opened up our creaky old screen door, letting the dog and I out first. Blackjack ran ahead as I flounced down our porch steps. We all turned towards the large barn, heading for the freshly cropped field of hay that lie behind it. It was a beautiful evening. The sun was no longer visible on the horizon, and the sky glowed a deep orange with pink and black streaks as the night settled in. I took a deep breath, smelling the fresh cut hay, the dew starting to form, and a tiny wisp of the cattle that were in the barn.
We rounded the corner of the barn, just as the large yard light attached to its side was humming, warming up with a soft white glow. I ran my hand along the length of the barn, peeling small chunks of faded red paint with me as I went. The wood was still warm from the sun. Blackjack bounded back to us, allowing me to stroke his coarse black and gold fur as he swept by. We cleared the barn by a few feet, and stood gazing across the few acres of farm field that spanned in front of us. Blackjack was halfway across the field, little more than a shadow in the looming darkness. Our silence was broken by a small calf in the barn letting out a soft moan for its mother. I looked up at my father, who at 6 foot, towered over me. He stood in his signature pose, most of his weight leaning on one leg, with both of his hands shoved into his pockets as he watched our dog trot across the field. He was always darkly tanned from the sun, possibly from Indian heritage; we will never know for sure. His thick, black hair was brushed back in the front and on the sides, and the final shards of fading light gleamed off his black rimmed glasses. I moved closer to him, and he lifted his hand to ruffle the top of my hair. I looked up at him and smiled.
Blackjack came back to us in that moment, ready to head back to the house. I again patted his head, feeling his soft pointed ears. He was a big dog, his head level with my chest. Impatient, he knocked me to the side as he pushed toward the house, knowing that a treat lay in store for him inside. The light on the barn was now at full power, guiding our way with a large circle of bright, white light. The final bit of sunlight had faded, and the windows of our home glowed yellow, welcoming us in our return. We finished our short trip in less than 15 minutes. Those 15 minutes of my seven year old life, forever ingrained in my memory, never to be forgotten.
Our family lived in a two-story brick farmhouse for a few years. We rented this from a farmer who used the land and allowed us to rent the house. It was an older home, with the deep red brick starting to erode slightly. The front yard was dense with overgrown apple trees that bore sweet smelling flowers in the spring, and delicious red apples every fall. The driveway was gravel that led from the road, splitting into a circle around the side yard. In the center of the driveway was a grass circle, and standing upon it was an old beat up wood stove. The stove and I had a history, but that is another memory for another time. If you stood in the driveway and looked to the right, there was an old, sturdy barn. Looking straight was another barn, made specifically for equipment storage. To the left stood our large home.
It was late summer. Comfortably warm and the days were long. Night was setting in, and it was time to take our beautiful German Shepherd named Blackjack out for a final run before bed. Dad asked me if I'd like to tag along, and of course I did. Anything Dad wanted to do, I wanted to do. I was small and scraggly, with long, unkempt blonde hair dangling midway down my back. It was the summer before I went to second grade. Dad opened up our creaky old screen door, letting the dog and I out first. Blackjack ran ahead as I flounced down our porch steps. We all turned towards the large barn, heading for the freshly cropped field of hay that lie behind it. It was a beautiful evening. The sun was no longer visible on the horizon, and the sky glowed a deep orange with pink and black streaks as the night settled in. I took a deep breath, smelling the fresh cut hay, the dew starting to form, and a tiny wisp of the cattle that were in the barn.
We rounded the corner of the barn, just as the large yard light attached to its side was humming, warming up with a soft white glow. I ran my hand along the length of the barn, peeling small chunks of faded red paint with me as I went. The wood was still warm from the sun. Blackjack bounded back to us, allowing me to stroke his coarse black and gold fur as he swept by. We cleared the barn by a few feet, and stood gazing across the few acres of farm field that spanned in front of us. Blackjack was halfway across the field, little more than a shadow in the looming darkness. Our silence was broken by a small calf in the barn letting out a soft moan for its mother. I looked up at my father, who at 6 foot, towered over me. He stood in his signature pose, most of his weight leaning on one leg, with both of his hands shoved into his pockets as he watched our dog trot across the field. He was always darkly tanned from the sun, possibly from Indian heritage; we will never know for sure. His thick, black hair was brushed back in the front and on the sides, and the final shards of fading light gleamed off his black rimmed glasses. I moved closer to him, and he lifted his hand to ruffle the top of my hair. I looked up at him and smiled.
Blackjack came back to us in that moment, ready to head back to the house. I again patted his head, feeling his soft pointed ears. He was a big dog, his head level with my chest. Impatient, he knocked me to the side as he pushed toward the house, knowing that a treat lay in store for him inside. The light on the barn was now at full power, guiding our way with a large circle of bright, white light. The final bit of sunlight had faded, and the windows of our home glowed yellow, welcoming us in our return. We finished our short trip in less than 15 minutes. Those 15 minutes of my seven year old life, forever ingrained in my memory, never to be forgotten.
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