With the rustic autumn wind brushing the tree’s free of their leaves, swaying grass and the vast open homestead, sat a humble cabin. Far enough away from the main stream of life, that neither cable or telephone could reach this quaint ranch. The stables were stocked with 21 horses, 2 Clydesdale’s and one lonely donkey.
Calling this home for a brief amount of time in my childhood was romantic to me. However brief that moment was, it left an impression on my spongy memory. Up on the hill was the luxurious home of the owner of our property. My daddy and I often walked up the steep drive-way as we pulled weeds. My daddy gave me the feeling that he was content with his family and the situation we kept there. Being the stable manager, he kept the animals feed, walked, cleaned and happy. He and I would walk around the cabin and the surrounding grounds, killing the jack rabbits and collecting them as we strolled.
The smell of the cold night air pulsing through my lungs with each breath is a feeling that I get to visit from time to time as I get older. Putting me right back in those very steps with my daddy. The big bright moon shining over head while I kicked rocks trailing behind him. Quiet as a 5 year old could be, I could hear the coyotes baying at the moon, the wrestling leaves under the feet of the deer walking through the woods.
My mom on the other hand made our house a home. Filling it with the savory scents of fresh dinner cooking on the old stove set in the kitchen. Our beds were clean and comfy with her warm caring hands each day. She rearranged my room to look like an office, as I requested. She would listen to her Dolly Parton and John Denver records in the living room as she did her motherly chores during the day.
I would often get bored and go exploring around. I stumbled upon a turtle one day, wanting to keep it in a cage and have it forever and ever. Until one night a pack of wild coyotes decided it would taste better, rather then wasting away inside of a cage. I discovered this tragedy the next evening when I took the left-over salad out to him. With a reassuring story from my parents, about my turtle finding his long lost family, I was content knowing he would be ok without me.
There are many times in my life, that I travel back in time to this very place in my mind. Visiting my old bedroom, watching the sunshine splayed across my bed from the window. Riding along with my daddy, as he baled the hay and stacked it on the truck bed. Playing in the summer sun, splashing the plastic pool water everywhere the I could. I can even hear the strumming of guitar strings from the cracking records being played from inside the house.
Times were so much more innocent and carefree then. The sun shined brighter, kissing the flowers and the moon caressed the night with a soft glow. The grass held your body like a plush blanket as the wild flowers danced in the wind, sprinkling their scents across the field. No worries about bills or where your money is going or coming from. Just peacefulness surrounding your every move.
I hope and pray that my children and the children of the world will have experiences like this. Fortunately enough, I didn’t grow up with lots of money. I had my imagination and a creative mind to keep myself entertained. How well did that work out? You’ll have to ask my parents. Though I never remember them complaining.