A Little Piece of Wisconsin

A high school english essay written by me 12-17-93. I must have sent a copy of it to grandma once because it was returned to me with some other of her belongings after she passed away. Clearly, it was a creative writing assignment. Try to ignore all of that and read the memories.

Though I am still young, my Grandparent's retired farm brings back memories of a sweet, innocent, younger time of my childhood. the farm was more than just a place of four distinct seasons that involved much fun. It had places that I could get away to, or places I shared. The farm was a world of it's own where even things that scared me brought me closer to myself. At the farm I could do anything I wanted without anyone caring.

Since their farm is in Wisconsin, I was fortunate because there are four very distinct seasons. One winter when the ground was covered with a soft, fluffy blanket, I remember the rosey cheeks and numb little fingers I got while playing in the snow for hours on end. Whether it was sledding or just playing in the snow, the whiteness every year amazed me. just being in the snow there was a comfort. It was a place I could get away to and by by myself.

Now, when the snow was too shallow to sled in, or too wet to run in, I could leave this world and find another. I even found this one in the corn fields surrounding the plot. Even though the rows that were planted were straight and firm, hiding was no problem in these huge acre fields. I could look for one direction and though I saw forever without an end. However, these fields of 'forever' came to scare me. If I could see forever, how would I get back to 'now'? The fear these fields instilled in me was like the fear of being lost without your mother, where everything looks the same. I would lose all sense of direction and many times I had wished I'd never gone it. I only hoped of being tall to hover over the stalks to see my way out. Then when I came out, everything was still there as if nothing had changed but I had learned then that home was a safe secure place for my life. Outside this world everything looked the same and didn't care where I came from, I knew would be my challenge.

The establishments on the farm, however, were places to share with others. The first real example of this was the old granary. One summer my siblings and cousins, all older than I, opened our eyes to a whole new world of work. We swept and cleaned until we made this granary the best playhouse to play in. We found old dishes and washed them to shine. We had rooms and a fireplace and even a second floor. Inside of this barn, I remember playing for many summers. This sharing and playing taught me to get along with other people in my favorite place because I couldn't always enjoy it alone.

Exploring the rest of the farm was just as interesting. We started in the cellar of the house that was dark and cold. Being in the midwest, it was also a tornado shelter that was stored with food. I can remember the smell of that damp brick many times during thunderstorms and great winds. My family and I would go wait down there for the rain to stop. It was on these occasions, with the lights flickering on and off that made me come to fear what was down in that cellar. The garage was also like cellar. When the big garage door was open it was another room, but in the darker part I saw shadows. It was stocked full of old parts and furniture, and mostly dust.

This getaway, this farm, has since changed for me. For one, I do not live in Wisconsin so I don't go that often. I now need to find another place like it, that brings me comfort because now the sleds are packed in the barn, there's no one young enough for them. The fields have been sold to someone else and smaller shorter plants have been planted. The granary is dusty, there's no one to clean it. And the cellar stairs are too weak to go down anymore. All these memories of such a calming place, I take with myself now of a deteriorating place that will always hold part of me. The farm taught me about life, it brought me up. It put good fears in me, but now the fear I have is to never see it again.

Like I said, this is obviously from an assignment. One day I should go through this essay and add the memories of other things like how my allergies were so bad in the granary that while the cousins worked I had to sit up at the top of a ladder with my head out a barn window. And drinking root beer from glass bottles down in the cellar waiting out a storm.