MAILBOXES AND OLD BARNS – Sunday Open Forum
Mailboxes and Old Barns is a collection of stories by our very own emmajeri1010.
This word picture was written to tell my sons how their mother felt about her life when she was 8 years old.
By 1952, I knew that I was actually the luckiest kid alive because I had wheat fields, peonies, kittens, tiger lilies, rainbows, crocuses, stars, west winds, thunderstorms, privacy, a huge pasture to roam in, endless country roads to ride my bike on and a barn to play in during the winter.
Come look at my bedroom: take the long staircase that turns 2/3 of the way up for the last four steps to the second story of the big farmhouse sitting on 1200 acres of Montana dryland. Second door on the left. A big walk in closet. A double bed which used to hold older sisters, now gone from home. A dresser with a big round mirror and a wastebasket. One window that faces east just over the peak of the kitchen roof which extends about 16-18 feet further out.
The view is pure Big Sky Montana. I can see to the curve of the earth over rolling prairie pasture and fields that are so soil poor they can only be sowed every other year and must rest fallow on alternate years. One of the best times at the window is when a thunder and lightning storm rolls through at night: the lightning repeatedly photographs the white-trimmed outbuildings~~the barn, the granaries, the windmill shack .
Like strobe lighting—flash! Flash! Flash! It’s like looking at negatives of farmyard photos.
And after the storm passes, I can literally lay my pillow and my head in the windowsill area and fall asleep watching the stars and the moon. But sleep seems like a terrible waste of time.
What are the “sleep seemed like a terrible waste” times you might tell your adult children about? You can tell your younger children, of course…but I phrase it that way because I’m observing a hunger in our 40′s-something sons to know “who Dad and Mom are…”