| Memories Moving Bump and load of furniture jumps and rattles as the trailer sways back and forth from the uneven pavement. Me, my brothers, and sisters sit as if packaged up, on a mattress in the back of the trailer. There we were amidst boxes of clothes and furniture odds and ends stuffed in an unorganized fashion to fill every space and void. A few more miles down the road another jar jolted us and we feel the truck come to a stop. The rear door opened slowly as if to keep anything from falling out. My dad peaked in and shines a flashlight in our faces and asks how everyone is. We acknowledge everything is okay except for being a little cramped. He nods and closeds up the door, the truck starts to move again and continues down the road. I loved growing up in the small little Minnesotan town. It was adjacent to a large circular blue lake nestled among fantastic rolling hills. All centered in the midwest farming belt and was a great place to grow up. I liked the area where we lived, just two blocks away from the school and a magnificent park. Our house sat on a gradual incline and its sidewalks coasted gently towards town. Across the street were grassy rolling hills used as pasture land for horses and cattle. It was an adventurous place for all kinds of activities during all seasons of the year. The lake with it's mostly sandy beaches was great for fishing and swimming in the summer and ice skating in the winter. I guess you couldn't ask for a better place to grow up. The trailer came slowly to a stop with a whoosh of the air brakes. The back door of the trailer slowly opens. "Okay everybody let's go, we are home" said my dad. All of us in a sleepy daze start moving carefully towards the back, stepping over boxes feeling our way to the door. We climb down to the ground, but can't see much but darkness all around. The flashing tailight of the trailer is all that illuminates the night. A flashlight illuminates the ground and we move slowly towards the light that is slicing its way through the darkness. We move slowly being careful not to trip on anything in the dark. Then a walkway appears and finally a door. Someone switches on a light and the empty rooms of a brightly lit house opens up before us. Here it is, this is our new home, someone says. We stand there in a daze, looking for someplace to lie down and go back to sleep. The truck swings around and the trailer backs into one of the driveways. A whoosh of the brakes pierces the darkness and we all move slowly back out to the trailer. Mattresses are unloaded first and carried clumsily into the house. They are spread throughout the house, next are the blankets and pillows, just enough to make temporary beds to sleep through the night. The trailer is then closed up and we all claim a place to sleep for the night. When morning comes, we will unload the rest of the trailer, but now it's time to sleep. In a few minutes everything is quiet and I drift off to sleep. The next morning I awoke to the sound of boxes being hastily stacked everywhere there was room. The trailer was being unloaded quickly to the front lawn, then the contents was slowly making it's way into the house. the summer sun was shining brightly, the sky a crisp blue and not a cloud to be seen. The sun's rays reflected through the kitchen window illuminating the boxes stacked like fallen leaves over the faded multicolored linoleum floor. A small chrome rectangular tabel with a yellow marble top sat under a vertically barred window undaunted by curtains or blinds.. My mother had prepared a breakfast of eggs and toast for my father who, with the last of the contents of the trailer unloaded, was off to a full day of work. My mother was in charge of arranging the furnishing and we all chipped in to setting up the beds, carrying in the furniture and putting away our boxes, or at least finding a place to keep them out of sight. After the lawn was cleared of all of its contents and the most of the boxes were put away or stacked in it's general area, I decided to venture outside and explore our new surroundings. The small square house sat on a large lot facing north, with a horseshoe shaped drive that met an east-west gravel road. The former owner had meticulously placed colorful flowers to the center of the driveway. Yellow, blue, red and orange, they spread their petals into the face of the morning sun. Rectangular shaped stones set on edge along the inside border, perfectly placed to accent the flower garden. Two rows of young elm trees aligned parallel to the gravel road provide shade while their leaves rustle gently in the wind. A small wire fenced in lawn, with a gate facing the center of the horseshoe, surrounded the front of the house. To the east of the house sat an unpainted cement block two-car garage. The east end of the horseshoe drive came directly to it's white washed sliding door. On the west side of the house a giant cottonwood tree sprawled it's branches like huge tenticles over and around the house. Bordering the property line on both sides was an old barb wire fence, it's lower wire almost undetectable because of the build up of years of blowing dust and debris. The back yard was almost an acre of flat ground whose weeds had smothered out most of the distinguishable grass. To the east side of the lot not far from the south end of the garage was an old horse barn. Its flat pitched roof and black tar paper siding gave it a depression era appearance. With further inspection, the barn would make a perfect club house, that is if my father didn't have other plans for it. A small square wooden shed to the west of the barn also with a flat pitched roof looked like another good prospect for a clubhouse. The only other building happened to be another reminder of a forgotten era, the outhouse. This little whitewashed wooden building would serve as our bathroom for months to come. The use of the two small holes cut into the narrow wooden bench would be reminiscent of a lifestyle long past. The yard seemed to stretch almost infinently to the south, sporting another large cottonwood tree, it's branches gently shading most of the old horse barn. On the east side of the lot an old wooden fence stretched from the barn to the south end of the lot. Sturdy enough to keep it's occupants from breaching the fortification. Peering over the wooden fence, four large horses of various colors beat the ground with their dusty hoofs. The younger three chasing each other in circles, nipping at each other and playing. The older mare with a slightly swayed back was a dirty white color and seemed to be more interested in some tall grass located just out of reach just to the south of the fence. The most magnificent of the beasts was a dominent brown male thoroughbred with a white nose and white socks on three of his legs. Another of the four, a black horse with a few small white spots here and there, seemed to have plenty of life in his steps. He looked strong and full of spirit. The last was a white male slightly older than the other males. A few large black spots on his back and shank gave him the appearance of a pinto. An elderly man in his 70's, the owner of these steeds, lived in the small square white house with a wire fence surrounding his lawn. A dirt driveway ran along the property line, an entrance to the back of his house. A fenced off area with wooden gate separated the back yard from the horse yard. A large flat roofed barn mostly open to the south allowed protection for the horses in foul weather. Across the road from our house was a corn field, it's north and south rows perfectly aligned with two long straight drive ways that reached north. One led to a large old white farmhouse. The farm house was a two story structure that had been converted into an upper-lower duplex and rented to local residents. The caretaker of the farm lived in a small house with his wife and three children just to the east of that area. The house hidden from view by two lines of large elm trees stretching between the two driveways and led south all the way to the gravel road. Between the two rows of trees, among the weeds and tall grass, antique farm equipment had been abandoned here and there, hidden from view in the overgrowth during the summer months.. The caretaker farmed the land and tended the cattle. He also had a thirst for brandy and hid bottles in various places throughout the farm. ' |