Lying in the Grass

I lay in the grass with the night wind lightly mussing my hair, aware of the dark sky and wispy clouds crossing the orb of the moon, aware of the darker shades of night where a copse of trees towered between me and the fallen down barn on the old Carter farm. A winged shadow passed before me, plunging into the lesser foliage where likely some hapless rodent had been about its own business. It was a Barn Owl, certainly.

During the daylight hours, I had been visiting the remnant of the Carters‘ home, a bit further on from the barn. It once was a substantial structure, built to house an extremely large family. Some of the walls were still in place, others leaning, many mere piles of rubble. I stood on the wreckage that had been the main entrance, looking over the waves of high grass where the crops had grown. There was the rusty corpse of a tractor near the center, as though it had been plowing, up until the moment it died. The drought and dust storms are gone; the farmers will never return.

I carefully made my way to an intact section where I found a room with all four walls, but open to the blue sky. It was exactly the room I had been hoping would be there. In it, debris from the collapsed roof covered remnants of furniture, clothing, and variously sized boxes. The family had been forced to leave all but the bare essentials when they moved out. The boxes were crushed or rotted open, exposing the contents to rain and mold. The closet was blocked. I dragged away chunks of asphalt and crumbly sheathing boards until I could get inside the room.

Moving the trash and old boxes as methodically as circumstances allowed, I soon discovered that none of it was worth the sorting. The dresser with a blackened mirror was empty and the drawers fell apart as I sought to slide them out. That left the closet.

I was already tired at this point, but I forced myself to lift the roofing away and then try to open the door. The knob turned easily but it did not engage the latch. I had to tug at it until the door allowed itself to be ripped out of the rotted frame. I tossed it into the middle of the greater trash pile.

Then I stepped in and I paused inside this dark space until my eyes adjusted to the gloom. I began to make out that a four-foot-long clothes pole was jam-stuffed with hangers of clothes, clothes fragile with age, heavily covered by dust. The shelf above the clothing held some small unrecognizable objects covered under mounds of dust. On the floor, something big rested beneath two boxes. The first box had caps, gloves, other objects of no interest. The second held a pair of worn-out boots. I tossed them outside and I was already aware that I had uncovered Granny Carter’s trunk. At last, there was cause for excitement. The moment I had scarcely dared anticipate had arrived.

I lifted the unlatched lid and knelt, prepared to rummage. How disappointed was I to find that insects and rats had ruined everything in there? I tried to swallow my disappointment, gently shutting the lid and standing up to leave. I had an empty, abandoned feeling as I moved to take the first step. I aborted the step to avoid walking on something shiny that caught my eye. Time stopped. Staring down I recognized Granny’s music box.

This to me sacred object restored my battered spirit as I lifted it and turned it around a few times before opening it. Well I remembered the heart pattern in the shiny gold finish. The inner part also appeared to be perfect. My mind did a happy dance, despite the regret, as I left the room to its inevitable fate. Picking my path through these shadows of the past I saw the house in my mind as it was when I was a child living there. A home always bustling with energy and love. The loss of my mother to pneumonia, the time spent in Granny’s care.

After the family was forced to leave I was sent to stay with Mary, my married oldest sister, never to see my Granny again.

I made my way to the ground and waded through the grass, to beyond the fallen barn and the stand of trees, to this pleasant hill, where I sat to listen to Granny’s tinkling music box. Soon I lay down on the grass, as dusk overtook me and I listened on with tears and smiles.