In the Shadows, Twilight Plays - Part Four
Posted: Sunday, August 01, 2010
by Richard Radtke
http://www.cottagebythelane.com
"Land is a constant, it is always a part of us even when we do not acknowledge it, it is always there. Family is like that too, its always a part of us, it is something we build over time. It is also something we to often ignore, to often take for granted. So, much like we must take care of the land to insure a good crop, we must do the same for our family. Because family will always be here for us, the trick is we must remember to be here for it"
The steady drip, drip, drip, of water falling from the roof, remnants from the storm that rumbled through the county last night, at last awoke the Seth. He lay still in the bed, not asleep, but not yet fully awake. The dream was gone, but the memory of it was there at the back of his mind. He knew he had dreamed of long ago days and the voices from his youth, when life was simpler, before he was an old man and he dwelt on this. As he truly awoke, the memories of the dream fell apart, retreated into the recesses of thought. He shook his head, saddened at the loss but knowing now it was time to start the day, of course since he'd retired from farming there wasn't really anything pressing for him to do. This wasn't what he'd planned on those years long ago, but very rarely does life work out the way one planned, not that he was bitter for the way life had treated him. In fact he was grateful, still there was a feeling that gnawed deep inside of unfulfilled dreams and ambitions unattained. He used to say to anyone within hearing range that when he retired he'd travel and see all those things he'd never been able to see. Ten years it'd been since his son, Will had taken his place on the tractor, and Seth still hadn't been to go see those things he'd always planned to, they were still far away.
His time he spent pottering around the homeplace, or working in the garden behind the house, that is up until a year ago when his arthritis had made it hard for him to even walk, and it seemed to him that since then the flesh had melted from his once strong frame. The garden which had once been his pride and joy now looked unkempt. He still wandered through it now and again when he could, even managed to pull the odd weed or two, but still it was not enough. The weeds outpaced him, grew up faster than he could ever hope to pull them, and Liz, well she tried to help him out when she could. But it was getting to be to big of a job to even keep trying anymore, he knew that this would be the last year that he tried to work the land at all.
There was one place that he still did do his best to keep up it was the old family plot just north of the house. In this small plot of land lay three generations of the family buried deep in the grip of the cool earth. Seth still managed to keep the grass on this bit of land trimmed down to size. He felt it was his duty, that it was something he owed those who had been. He knew if he didn't keep it so, then perhaps the wild prairies grasses would once more grow tall here in this spot swallowing the headstones, hiding them in the tangle until finally they would disappear from sight and eventually memory.
His Grandpa had begun the little plot when his Grandma had died, but that was before he had been born. Grandpa had laid her to rest under a spreading old Oak that stood by itself, alone. Over the years, his Pa had added a picket fence to close the plot in, it still stood there around the sacred place, but it sagged a bit with age, and here and there pickets were gone or broken. He'd given up years ago trying to keep it up, now he just let it slowly fall down, waiting for the day it too would be gone, like those who within the squared off plot it marked, were. Everything out here disappears over time, doesn't matter what or who it is, on this land with its ever-blowing wind, ever-changing weather, everything disappears given enough time, just like its never been. The land always wins.
When he was a youngster, he could recall going to her grave, his small hand holding onto his Grandpa's hand, as they walked in through the gate. Grandpa always carried some flowers in the other hand, which after a bit he would quietly lay at the base of the slate headstone, then he'd stand there a minute silently looking at the grave, after a bit he'd nod as though answering something Grandma had said from the grave, then he'd slowly turn and take the youngster's hand and together they would make their way back up to the porch, where often as not Grandpa would spend the rest of his day. He recalled the day they had buried his Grandpa there too, by his Grandmas side. He remembered the cold of the wind as it blew, cutting through his coat. He remembered how much it hurt, knowing that Grandpa would not coming back, that he would not talking with him anymore. But he also was kind of glad because now his Grandpa would be with his Grandma once more, and he knew deep inside that Grandpa would be happy again. His Pa too, was buried there, next to Grandpa's and Grandma's graves, next to him laid his Ma On the other side of his grandparents was his Uncle Sam, He had been so close to him, but that was the way of everything out here on the land. It took those you loved, not in the sense that it was the lands fault, although in some cases it was, but in the sense it was were everyone ended up. Maybe that was not really true, Seth was just not to sure anymore, he was not really a church going man, but he wanted to think there was more than just sleeping there in the land and nothing more. There was another grave up there to, although it was not really a grave, just a marker his father had put up, a simple stone, on it was chiseled the name of his father's son, Seth's brother. There was not a body under the stone, Ted had been killed in the war, and his body had not been found, so the stone marked an empty grave. Seth remembered how his dad, Aaron had changed the day when the telegram had come. Seth knew that death was not something his dad did not know, he dealt with it almost everyday, dead cattle, hogs, chicken's. True, they were a lot different then when someone close to you died, he knew that, and he also knew that the pain he felt when Grandpa had passed and when his folks had too, but over time that pain, well it had kind of gone away. But his Uncle Sam always said that the pain his dad had felt that day of the telegram never did, it was always still there inside him, just as fresh and new as the first day he found out of his son's death, And over the years Aaron had come to accept that the pain would never go away, it had almost become a part of him, unwanted but familiar in its way.
Seth also thought about his son's both of whom had served their country in this last terrible war, he remembered how he used to look down the when a vehicle passed by, always afraid that it was his turn to receive a telegram, but thankfully that had never come to pass. His boys came home, each one unscathed, but they had changed by what they had saw. Will had come home to stay picking up where he left off, back to the land that he so loved. He had been married before he had left to fight to the daughter of a friend of Seth, who lived only a few miles away, and Will and Rachel had come here to stay. When Josh had come back he had stayed home for a bit, but was uneasy here, he had seen to much of the rest of the world and wanted more. Josh found he needed to be among people, needed the contact. One day he left, moved to a city and there, he had found himself and was doing well. Rebecca and Louise had both married too, Rebecca to a GI she had met during the war, and Louise to a boy she had grown up with, and during that time grown to love, but wasn't that how it was supposed to be? Seth smiled to himself as he thought about that last thought, and he knew he was right.
There were other things he thought of, things that would spring into his mind unbidden, things he had never really thought of before, like the days. It just seemed to him that the days he now knew went on forever, stretching from one end to the other with nothing changing, nothing to look forward to anymore, a minute or an hour it did not matter, to him they all seemed the same. There were times now he completely lost track of time, fell out of rhythm with the days, and when he thought about it, it worried him. It had not been that way before, when he worked the land, there were times he lost track of the days, but he had never lost the rhythm. "Its just age creeping up on an old man", he thought, "When your working this land, days don't matter, seasons do, rain, heat, and the blowing cold of a cutting winters wind, that's what matters".
But yet he knew that something in his world was not right, the memories that had seemed so fresh and alive just a short time ago, were veiled now, they moved like shadows in his mind. He knew who he was, but some things that were did not seem as clear as they were just the day before. Sometimes, like this mornings dream, they burned bright like the flaring of a match in the dark of the night, a quick flash as quickly gone, leaving one to wonder if in fact it had been there at all.
Seth shook his head, "No time to be thinking thoughts like this, gotta get up an get going Liz don't bide just laying in bed." Seth struggled out from the bed, and slowly, painfully pushed himself erect. Grasping the cane that leaned on the wall by the head of the bed, he made his way across the room to the old battered chair. Sitting down slowly upon its creaking frame, he pulled on his clothes and boots. He stood unsteadily to his feet and leaning on his cane, made his way to the kitchen. From where he could smell the aroma of coffee brewing, and hear the pots and pans banging as the Liz made breakfast there.
Arriving at the table, he stiffly sat down on one chairs, and waited and watched. Liz, silently placed a mug of coffee on the table in front of him, from it tendrils of steam wafted lazily into the air. He sat, now and then stirring a spoon in his cup, occasionally sipping the coffee slowly, waiting for his breakfast. "Will is already out in the fields, but he will be back in a bit", said Liz, "Wants to see what needs to be done on the old barn, check out the roof, been leaking you know," as she set down his breakfast on the table.
Seth nodded his head in reply and went on sipping and stirring. She sat down across from him, as he ate. She gripped a cup of coffee in her strong hand and watched him eat, thinking to herself how frail he had become, he was no longer the big strong man she had married those long ago years. She knew, though, that she still loved him and always would. He finished with his breakfast and pushed the plate away, looking at his wife he said, "You say Will is coming back in for a bit?"
Liz answered, "Yes I did, don't you ever listen to me when I talk Seth? Before he went out he said he wanted to check out the old barn roof today, It'll be haying season soon and he needs to make sure the old place keep it halfway dry through the winter"
Seth nodded his head and said, "I told him last year that the old barn needed a new roof, lets see..., we built that barn 36 or was it 37?" He asked, more to himself than to her, The Old Lady answered, "36,... remember, it was the year of the drought, lost quite a lot of the corn, barely made it through that year."
He replied, "We barely made it through a lot of years, I seem to recall, but the good lord helping, we always did make it. Lessee so that is, what?..., eighteen long years that old roof has been on there, Yep, I guess he can't complain to much bout it not lasting, but he will, he just don't understand things wear out, specially out here..., things just wear out....." He trailed off. Liz had picked up the dishes and was at the sink washing them, she always kept everything spotless. Not like Seth, he wandered through the house picking something up here and dropping it there, Oh she'd tried to break him of that habit over the years, never had succeeded though and finally she'd just given up. Seth sat for a few minutes more, just sat and stirred his coffee, then finally labored his way into the parlor to sit and read until mid-morning when he would make his way to the broad open porch on the front of the house.
The parlor of the home was well kept, and other than the Philips radio sitting against the wall and was only used in the evenings, looked like it was straight out of the Victorian era. The huge horse hair couch filled up the space between the two front windows, and doilies covered the tables. Everything looked perfect, the pictures all hung straight and even on the walls, even the books in the case were lined up by height. Seth's chair sat in the corner, placed to catch the new morning sun, beside it sat a small table with a light. It was his place, and it was the only spot, or place that showed life in the room. The chair was worn shiny where he sat, the small table was heaped with tattered magazines and books.
Seth slowly sat down and leaned his cane carefully beside the chair. Without a glance, he pulled a magazine from the pile on the table and started to read. He put the magazine down after a few minutes, he couldn't focus on its written words. Letting it fall into his lap he leaned back in his chair, and looked about the room. "Lots of memories in this room, I can remember my Dad sitting in here when I was young, no bigger than Will's boy Matt is now. The Christmas tree standing over there by the big picture window, and the room smelling of that Christmas scent, fresh cut pine, and the scent of his Mother's baking. Cinnamon spice in the air, in the kitchen on the cooling rack sat the pies, made for Christmas dinner, Apple, Cherry, and Pecan. His Dad or Uncle would wander in there, usually chased out again by Ma, with the shout, "Keep your hands off those pies, there for dinner, not for snacking." He remembered how his Dad always made getting the Christmas tree seem like such an important thing. "Pa would always wait till the week before Christmas Eve to go out and cut it down, and it just was not any tree that he cut down either. No, he'd been eyeing the trees all summer and into the fall, always looking for that perfect one. Can't say I ever recall him saying he found it either, seems when he'd bring it in the door he be saying how this year he'd got the perfect one, but by the time he had it put up he'd have found some tiny imperfection. Don't think me or Rose or even Ma ever noticed it till he would point it out, we'd just stand there looking at the tree, marveling at the lines, but Pa, he'd point out that one little thing, Ma would look at him then and say, "Pa, now you know that is just the way it grew and once we get it decorated you won't be able to see a thing, so you just quit your complaining now, you got us a wonderful tree." Pa, well he'd quiet down then, always kind of wondered in the back of my mind if he made such a big fuss about those tree's just so Ma would tell him what a good job he done picking them out. Well, guess it don't matter much now anyway, whatever the reason was. Ted, Rose, I, and Grandpa when he was alive we'd spend the night stringing popcorn together, popcorn Ma popped over the old potbelly stove, course I think Grandpa and I ate more than we stringed, Ma she'd act like she was getting mad as we ate it, but we knew she wasn't, suppose it was just part of Christmas. I remember after the tree had been decorated and stood there aglow in all its finery, Grandpa used to sit back and tell me a story or two, lets see he'd tell about Santa and his reindeer, or sometimes bout the baby Jesus. In his mind's eye Seth returned to a Christmas Eve from long ago, the parlor stove was burning bright, his Pa and Uncle Sam were sitting by its glowing side. The newly decorated tree, with bows and tinsel that danced in the light was in its spot. His Ma was sitting on the couch, and Grandpa was in his chair, the youngster Seth had been once, was sitting on floor between Ted and Rose, Seth looked down upon the floor, to himself he said, "Lets see, I was sitting right bout there between Ted and Rose, just waiting for Grandpa to begin, waiting and wondering what special place he was going to take us to tonight. Grandpa enjoyed storytelling, he weaved a web of words that a child could understand, but he did it in his own time, no rushing him. He sat in his chair for an eternity, least it seemed so to me, then he'd lean back, look for a bit at the ceiling overhead, looking for the right words. Then finally he would look down at us sitting there and he'd begin.
Another part of "The Homeplace", again I apologize for the length.
copyright 2010 RRRadtke
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Top-level comments on this article: (2 total)RichardYou have a way with words. A couple of suggestions. Although it is hard to show and not tell when the main character is simply contemplating or remembering life, it is very difficult to keep the reader's interest when it is used for long.Take the second paragraph of the story as an example:The constant drip, drip, drip echoed off the roof as the remnants of last nights rumbling storm echoing awoke me. Laying in bed still in those moments between full consciousness and dreamland. The place where the pictures of the dream were still vibrant and alive. Inhaling deeply the movie of his dream began again reminding of the days long ago. Each voice like ghosts coming alive. Ghosts of youth before contemplation was the past time. Blinking and shaking my head to erase the pictures, pushing them to the far recesses of consciousness.Just a suggestion. The story is heart felt and touching.you know, your right this story actually bores me too. Think I will work on something else.
i am not sure i like articles this long, as it is too time consuming.Read above, but thank you for your comment
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