My Childhood Home

My childhood home was a mixture of two places. We lived in a grand old house on Main Street in our small Illinois town. The home sported two acres of yard and  that was plenty of space to create a whole world in young imaginations. We also owned a beautiful farm of 200 acres about 20 minutes drive from our home.This is where my dad spent his life when he was not patrolling and keeping the good citizen of our county safe. You see, my dad was a farmer by love and an Illinois State Policeman by necessity. Farming was my dad’s passion but was too unstable an income to support a family of twelve, so when the great hiring of new state troopers came about, my dad jumped at the chance and began a 25 yr career.

I watched with intensity and tucked many lessons away on my way up. I witnessed the struggles of my siblings with each other, with my mom and dad and with society. I can’t even begin to write all that I learned from them. I thought them all beautiful and wise and right. I never doubted who they were and never questioned that I would be as true as they were as I grew. My parents were good, gentle people. They loved to help others who were suffering and struggling. Their generosity knew no boundaries.

My story really begins as a waif of a child, all arms and legs, round brown eyes and a tangle of long dark hair. The sun kissed my skin and turned me a nice nut-brown every summer. In the years before my twelfth one, I had swam in my father’s creek, shirtless, and as free as the boys I ran with. I had climbed the vines and swung out above the water,letting go,fearlessly crying “Geronimo!” as I crashed to the waterhole below. My legs were always in motion. Running was the fastest way to get anywhere and my scrubby stubbed toes revealed this fact. Never did I care about the state of my hair, much to my sisters’ consternation. Much more important affairs drew my attention. I could pee, standing up, just like the boys. Well almost like the boys. I could slide into first base and pitch a mean ball. I was as fast on my bike and could ride a wheelie and ramp like Evil Knevil.

1 Comment (+add yours?)

  1. Andrew Rauch
    Jul 29, 2012 @ 09:06:06

    Sara these are all so awesome, every one I read makes me tear up and put a lump in my throat!!!


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