Stepping Out of the Fields

When my dad got his last duty assignment to Idaho, my sister and I were sent to his parents’ home in Michigan. My mother had died during the previous assignment so I guess being a single parent in the military was difficult. School made things easier so when that rolled around, we joined him in Idaho. But that summer—we were with our grandparents on the farm.

I have a neutral view on the farm. It is what it is. I have good memories and bad although at the time, I thought the place was hell. Full of hard work, parasites, and dirt. There were no toilets, or showers. Water came from a well and if you wanted it warm, you did it with a stove. Breakfast at 8. Lunch when the sun was at its highest. Dinner when the sun set (as late as 10). On the other hand, I had a lot of freedom to do what I wanted. Although I did a fair amount of work, my grandparents also gave me a lot a free time. A lot of people would probably think that there wasn’t much to do on the farm but I kept myself entertained in various ways.

At night I would look to the west across the farm to a wood lot that lies on edge of the property. I always wanted to go into it and keep going until I hit the interstate. The stern warning from Grandma was enough to keep me out of it. Not to mention the poison ivy. I’ve had a previous run in with poison ivy and I was not keen on a second one. But the lot was always there and like the property that lay on the southern banks of the creek, I never set one foot in it—until today.
In a month or so, the farm will be reopening but I took the opportunity to walk around now. On my walk, I noticed that I could peer further into the wood lot than I ever had before. I went in and saw a part of the farm that I had never seen before. I stomped my way through trees and thorn bushes until I got to the end of the creek and the interstate. Finally, after all these years, I had reached the very edge.