Monday, September 28, 2009

Moments and Memories

A Piece of the Past
(written in 2000, remembering a time when I was 14)

It was an unbearably hot July day. The white farmhouse where we were staying was too warm and uncomfortable on a day like this, so I went outside to explore. Surrounding the house were lush, rolling hills, with a creek running through a corner of the property. Wishing to be alone, I walked down the lane to a group of old buildings, which I had been meaning to investigate.
Pushing open the door of the first one, I was met by a breath of moldy, stagnant air. There were no windows. Rows of shelves lined the walls, with empty canning jars sitting on them. I knew this had been my Grandma’s cellar in the old days, yet as the door closed behind me, and I was left in semi-darkness, I decided this wasn’t such a great idea. I hurried out, and entered the main building, just opposite. It had a creaking porch, which I gingerly stepped across.
Inside was a long room, which smelled like petroleum. My uncle stored his farm equipment and tools in it, and it certainly looked nothing like it had many years ago, when my grandparents had built this place as their first home. It had a small window, and I tried to imagine my Grandma cooking here, preparing the meals. My imagination couldn’t handle it; it all seemed so ugly and barren. I walked through to a smaller room, which must have been the sleeping area. Beyond this was the master bedroom, which my uncle used to store hay in. I could nearly feel the ghosts of past times, but I couldn’t get too nervous in broad daylight.
What was it like living then? My Grandma raised seven children in that house. How did she do it? Before leaving, I noticed a faint, blue rose pattern on the walls of the main bedroom. I stepped closer and saw it was the remainder of wallpaper, which once must have been so pretty, but was now barely discernible. I gently removed a few pieces, resolving to keep this tangible part of my past. Breathing in deeply, I sighed and whispered a good-bye while looking around once more. I knew I would never be in this place again, because my uncle had decided to tear it down later that year. How I wished that he would preserve it!

1 comment:

peppermint said...

It's sad how some things can't remain with us. It's a good thing we can go back in memory to those days. How I wish I had a piece of the old homestead! Thanks for sharing today.
Have a great week!
Patti