I am in story-teller mood so here it goes. When
I was four, my Grandparents bought
the farm I now live on. My parents lived in town,
and were living in a brand new house.
I was always in trouble, for fighting with the 5 year
old next door. For throwing rocks at cars, for playing
in the gutter, you name it. I remember sitting in the sink
in the bathroom doing a commercial in front of the mirror
and eating a whole bottle of baby aspirin. ( My Mom stuck
her finger down my throat, scared me to death) Yuck!!
I was the kid from Hell. You know the one every parent
just wishes could be sent back. I even went and got a pack
of cigarettes and lit one up from the hot water heater, so me
and my Mom could share a "smoke." (The only thing that smoked
was my bottom.)
So My grandparents bought this and we moved into the "old house."
This is a sculpture of sort of the house. It only had one
porch but everything else looked the same. The back
of the house had a screened in back porch and and shelves
for lots of canning. At the back of the house, was a gazebo
covered in wisteria. We would play under it in the summer.
On the other side of the house was a pump house and a summer
kitchen. My Mom would cook out there when it got really hot.
I suppose after coming from a brand new house to a really old
one was hard. The well only ran when my Dad got home and filled
the tank that was high up on a stand. The thing that was so unique
about this place was that the old garage was filled with license plates
on the walls. Then there were piles and piles of duck decoys and there
were abalone shells that went all around the house.
There were hundreds of trees and there was always some thing blooming
all year long. There were tree houses in the trees and for me, it was a magic
paradise. I could go out and no one yelled at me, I could
wander around and watch things and pretend to my hearts
content. I would sit and watch frogs catch bugs, I would
climb trees and play with chickens, and ducks and play in the mud
and no one cared.
When I moved back after we built this house, one of the neighbors
came to welcome me home. When she said, "Welcome home, Kim"
it was one of the nicest things I ever heard. You know how hard
it is to sleep sometimes in a new place? The night I went to sleep,
here for the first time, I was finally home.
Every tree here has a memory, every path and everywhere I look,
I see that little girl, who grew up here and her children grew up here too.
now her grandchildren, get to grow up here.
It has changed and it is not in the country anymore, I only have a tiny
bit of country left. The city grew to meet us. But as magic goes,
it is still full of it. There are still dreams here to be dreamed.
This wisteria in the above picture is part of the original and it is still as beautiful as
I remember it from long ago. Have a great Tuesday!