Another short story (fair warning)

 Location: Heart of Haynesville RV Park; Mansfield, Louisiana

I'm sorry this isn't a travel post but I guess I just have to write these short stories to clear them out of my head. I'll try to post the part 2 of the trip but as more and more time passes, it seems to be becoming irrelevant. Oh well, we'll see what happens. If ya'll are wondering, Yes, these short stories are still cathartic.

The Tree

     He lay in bed but sleep wouldn’t find him. The night had been filled with tossing and turning as thoughts raced through his mind. Tonight, he couldn’t turn them off. His wife, of too many decades to remember without a calculator, lay comfortably next to him in peaceful sleep. He sure envied her for that trait on this night. With everything going on in their lives, how could she just lay there? He knew one thing for sure. A meeting with the guys would be needed and they would help him come to grips with the decisions hanging in the air. He thought to himself, “I sure hope they show up. They had always been there when needed, but there was no way to know for sure.”

     It was time to get up and he threw himself out of bed so fast that he “accidentally” woke his wife. He had been taught years ago to never let the sun come up before him. Today would be no different and he had his regular chores to do before the meeting with the guys. As he got up from the breakfast table, his wife gave him a soft kiss on his cheek and whispered, “It’ll be OK”. He smiled at her reassuringly and replied, “Sure it will, don’t you worry about it”, then turned to face the day.

     He and his wife were third generation farmers and had raised four children right here on this farm. Looking back over the last three generations, there had been a total of twenty two children raised in this old house. Sadly, the number of children had decreased with each generation. Their own four children were fully grown and scattered around the world like seeds in the wind. The oldest was a merchant marine sailing around the world. Growing up, he was always the wanderer and talked about seeing things other than the farm. The next was a successful businesswoman on the west coast rubbing shoulders with the “pretty people”. Third was an oilman in west Texas with a reputation of bringing in difficult wells. The baby of the family chose a peaceful life in the mountains of upstate New York. We all referred to her as the “hippie” of the family. All four of them had two main things in common. One was that they all worked hard on the farm as they were growing up. This built their work ethic and character that served them well in their diverse careers. Second, none of them wanted to take over the farm and be farmers.

     The tractor was a little hard to start this morning but it finally ‘caught fire’ and coughed into action. As he drove along the edges of the fields surveying the crops he had planted a few months ago, he knew the harvest yield would be down this year. How far down would depend on if rain came soon or continued to stay away. He never was able to justify the cost of an irrigation system because the dry years had always been far apart. It was like this every year at this time. It didn’t matter if it was a dry or wet year, there was always a worry about something or another. This year was different though, for so many reasons. The lack of rain, while a major concern, was only one of many issues they were having lately. As he looked over the corn he knew that harvest time was quickly approaching. The irony of “harvest time” didn’t escape him as he thought of the guys and wondered if they would they show up. He wished there was a way of contacting them directly instead of having to rely on them to just appear. Surely they both knew he had some really big decisions to make and he needed their experience, knowledge and guidance.  

     He drove the tractor to the meeting place but they weren’t there. While jumping down from the tractor, he thought, “Oh well, I’ll just clean up the place some and maybe they will show up.” The meeting place was a large shade tree in one of the corn fields. It was surrounded by ripening crops. He had brought a hand scythe to trim the small patch of grass that encircled the tree. It was quick work and he was soon sitting on the bench under the tree wiping the sweat from his brow. He couldn’t remember if the bench was first built by his grandfather or father but he knew he had repaired it several times over the years that he had been in charge of the farm.

     The tree had been a refuge for all of the generations. There was a well worn path directly from the tree to the back door of the house about a quarter of a mile away. The tree had been the place where all of his children had sat and planned out their lives. It was the same place where he had proposed to his wife forty years ago after she had let him kiss her in the moonlight. Over the years, Granddad always talked about how he and Grandma weren’t sure if they chose the tree or the tree chose them. Whichever way it was, the tree was saved when they first cleared the land for farming. It wasn’t much more than a sapling at the time but they saw its potential just as they saw the potential of the farm. Week after week of clearing, Granddad turned what used to be acres of trees into rich farmland. That farmland had provided a very nice and comfortable life for three generations but may end soon.

     It seemed as though all big decisions, for all of the generations, had been made right here under the tree. Another one needed to be made soon.

      He felt them sitting next him on the bench more so than seeing them. It was like that sometimes, just a feeling and nothing else. But today, they slowly came into focus and he said, “Hi Dad. Hi Granddad. Glad ya’ll could make it.” The only words spoken were his. Yes, he could see them sometimes, but they never spoke. It was their thoughts that would find their way into his head. Afraid they may vanish as mysteriously as they came, he spoke quickly. “We are thinking about selling the farm”. Anticipating their reaction, he expected a flood of their thoughts but only one came. It was “Wait”. “Oh no”, he thought, they want me to wait to sell. He then asked, “Wait for what?” He was even more confused by their reply, “Wait for them.”

     It was then that he caught some movement out of the corner of his eye and turned to see what it was. It may have only been in his mind, but he thought he clearly heard for the first time since his passing, words from his grandfather. Those words were, “Ut oh, she’s coming”. The movement was his wife approaching along the path. It seemed as though there were two other people walking with her but he couldn’t quite make out who they were. It wasn’t unusual for his wife to do this. She would often meet him under the tree whenever she would see the tractor parked near it. She would bring him some cool water and maybe a bite to eat. When she finally arrived at the tree, he was shocked to see her companions. Mom and Grandma were standing there in front of him, clear as a bell. He had no words and could only say, “what, what”. He was used to visiting with and spiritually seeing his father and grandfather, but had never seen his mother and grandmother in the spirit. Seeing her husband’s confusion, his wife spoke next. She said, “Yes honey, they visit with me just like they, pointing to Dad and Granddad, visit with you.” We usually meet in the kitchen and discuss several topics ranging from cooking to men. We knew today was different so we all came to the tree. We decided to come to the meeting to make sure our husbands knew our thoughts on the subject at hand.

 

Epilogue:

On that day, the six of them agreed to sell the farm. It was sold to a young couple with two small children. There were two stipulations in the bill of sale. First, the tree could never be cut down and the area around it must be maintained in good condition. Second, the husband and wife could live in the house until their passing. The young couple became surrogate children to the husband and wife. The husband helped the young man around the farm and taught him the “tricks of the trade”. The wife helped the young woman with her children who became like grandchildren. Life was good. An evening seldom passed without the older husband and wife spending time at the tree. Sitting on the back porch after a long day, the young couple would watch them and it always seemed as though they were talking and laughing with people. Life goes on and there are definitely angels among us.   

Darrell Goza

October 13, 2024