I grew up in Atlanta, Michigan, a microscopic town in the middle of nowhere--the kind of town that you need to stock your pantry in because the nearest Wal-Mart is an hour or so away.
I didn’t know my father that well then. I just remember how much I had adored it when I was blessed with his presence. He called me sweetheart, unlike my mom ever had. I loved it when he’d smile at me. His salt and pepper mustache raising up on each side when I’d do something silly such as trying to walk in his shoes. Which were at the time, nearly as big as me.
My mom on the other hand, was not quite as gentle. She’s a strong woman and always has been. A ferocious, petite woman that could shut up a grown man in a matter of seconds. Her hair, so much thicker at the time, was ruffled and tangled around her delicate face. Her eyes had this sort of glint to them, displaying every emotion she felt; sometimes happiness, anger, amusement, but more often than not, a hint of sarcasm. Nothing can explain the love a child has for their mother, but if I had to attempt, I’d say that she was my personal God. I looked up to her and expected her to take care of me. And she did.
Our property of 20 acres was unlike any place I ventured to. More than half of this 20 acres was just our backyard. It seemed to stretch on forever in my child eyes, ending with a horizon of pines. In the middle of this field held a swing set and what seemed to be an idea of a meadow. A flowery patch of Earth, surrounded by rocks of varied sizes. Of course, I was forbidden to play in my little meadow because of the chance that I may be bitten by a snake, but that only added to my adventure. Nothing suits an adventure better than a bit of adrenaline and risk.
Our livestock was complimentary song to our home. We owned chickens, ducks, goats, and common household pets. Two dogs and an abundance of cats, I found myself in paradise. This land was so full of life and rich life at that. Well, except my mom’s sunflower garden. This small garden died after a short span of a month. It never grew back.
Life was much easier then. Before I began to learn outside of the world I had been accustomed to. Before I found out all the imperfections of the universe. That there wasn’t just home or the comfort of my mother’s hand in mine. Or my toys and animals. My sweet blanket and mom’s famous soup. When problems are unseen and there’s a surprise at every corner-- and not even just that. There’s a push. A want, or even a need, to know more. There’s no such thing as assumption or sarcasm.
Yeah, I’d say it was a lot easier.
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