Write With Me; Pam’s Essay
- January 26, 2009
- Category: Daily Diary
- (7) Comments
I’ve received several more essays for the “place” assignment. Today’s essay is by Pam, author of “Life on a Southern Farm.” Enjoy!
close my eyes so as I can see clearly the way to the place I know so well.
I am at the beginning of a red clay dirt road. The road my father
walks to wait for his ride to the steel plant where he works. The 2
mile long road that is too muddy for the man to drive, who is to pick
Daddy up. The man lives on the paved road.
On the left is the white clapboard Primitive Baptist Church where our
family reunions are held every August. It is a small church with one
big room. The bathrooms are outside in buildings called outhouses.
Right outside the church building, under century old oak and pecan
trees is where the dinner on the grounds are held.
Supported by large wooden posts is a tin roof that helps shade us from
the hot southern sun. Underneath is food cooked by some of the best
cooks in rural Georgia, my relatives from my mother’s side of the
family. There is banana pudding, cakes of all kind, fried chicken,
vegetables from everybody’s gardens. Of course the ice tea flows all
day long.
It is good to see everyone again. It has been a long time.
As I go on down the dirt road I pass 2 houses a long distance apart
before I come up to my grandparents house. The house my mother grew up
in, surrounded by my grandfathers land. When cotton was king, the
whole 50 acres was white with cotton bolls.
It is at the top of the hill. The hill I have pushed my red bicycle
up at least two thousand times for the fast ride down to the bottom.
The ride where my long light brown hair flows behind me and I imagine
I am flying like a bird. Not confined in a plane, mind you, free like
a bird.
At the bottom of the hill is the little creek we call a branch. I have
spent as many hours in the 6 inch deep water as I have on the red
bike.
Tiny fish and craw fish wait to be caught in my little tin can.
Examined and set free. Some days you can find a leach or two. It is
fascinating to watch as they pulse and expand. They can cling to your
skin and suck blood right out of you with just a small tingle.
Oh yes, there is always something new to investigate in that small
winding path of water.
At the branch the road slopes back up to a smaller hill. As I walk up
hill I see the road forks. At the fork is a large white house sitting
beneath big pine and oak trees.
It is home. Built by my daddy in 1947, it is home to my 4 brothers, 2
sister, Mama, Daddy, and me.
It is home. It is safe.
I open my eyes and blink. Could it really be 40 years later? Already?
The house sits empty on the same fork in the road. Except now it is a
busy paved road. All around is homes that sell for $300,00 -
$450,000.
The house that daddy built is in bad shape. Daddy, grandma and grandpa
are at rest at the church up the road. Mama sold all the land but the
little bit where the house sit. She moved a few years ago.
In a few weeks the house will be torn down to make room for the
expanding highway.. Home of my childhood will be gone.
Or will it?
All I will have to do is close my eyes…to see clearly the way to the
place I know so well.
I feel as if I really walked that road. Nice descriptive writing!
Date: January 26, 2009
Oh, I love this story Pam! It brings back my own memories of childhood in the country. How sad that your family home will be no more. I’ve often wondered how I’ll feel when my parents are gone and someone else is living in their house and I couldn’t ever go inside again. But you are right – the memories are there and nothing can take it away in your mind.
Date: January 26, 2009
Thank-you Mountain Woman for posting the essay and thank-you Cedar and Chris for your nice comments.
Have a great day.
Pam
Date: January 26, 2009
That was a nice essay. It was vividly painted. Thanks for sharing.
Date: January 26, 2009
I liked your familiar place essay. It’s very sad though they are tearing down the house your dad built. That’s awesome that you are so close still but like you say, you’ll always have the memory of it. You described it so well, I could picture it too!
Date: January 27, 2009
Pam your writing is always such a treat to read. Your vivid description of your home town, what once was and may never be again, brings me so close to that “place” in your memories and in your heart. I can hear your voice as I read; it is calm, reflective and filled with warmth and admiration for that place you knew as a child. You love your life now, but you also loved that place very much as well. It is a good thing to have such pleasant memories of growing up and of the many people who helped shaped our lives.
Thank you for sharing.
Date: January 28, 2009
Love Pam’s story!
Tracey
Date: January 28, 2009