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The Old Farmhouse

–Stories From The Dirt Road

It was a warm April morning, and the skies were dark in the distance.  A low rumble, a drop of rain were reminders that storms came without warning this time of year.  The road was full of ruts and potholes and the going was slow. The years were kind to me and yet my most memorable memories were of this farm, the field, barns, and the old farmhouse.  I grew up here and walked these fields and swam in the creek now dried up and dusty.  It was a place that I would always call home.

The porch made painful sounds as I walked slowly toward the old oak door.  It was unlocked and I took a deep breath.  It had been years since I lived here.  The living room was dark with slivers of light peeking in through the plank boards.  I felt the house and knew it lived and breathed.  I could feel the sadness and loneliness, yet it seemed glad to see me.

I closed my eyes, and it was like stepping back in time.  As in a dream I could see my family, Daddy, Mom, my sisters, and my first dog Cookie.  I reached out to touch them, but they could not see me or hear me.

I stepped into the kitchen and could smell a Sunday meal, fried chicken, potatoes, corn, homemade biscuits, and sweet tea. It was the heart and soul of our home.  We all gathered as a family talking about our day and what we had to do the next day.  Daddy sat at the head of the table and he would go around giving each of us a chance to talk about our day and to know what chores we had for the coming week.  As I stood to leave, I could feel the house wanting me to stay.  I quietly walked out the door looking into the distant fields and for a moment I could see Daddy waving goodbye.  I knew I would be back because this is where I learned my way of being.

Larry Tyler
Larry Tyler
Awaken the possibilities … then unleash them. After 55 years of successful retail management, I have returned to my passion of writing. I write Poetry, Storytelling, and Short Stories. As a child, I grew up on front porch storytelling. I would sit and listen to my Dad and his brothers tell these great stories that were captivating, and I always wanted to hear more. I wanted to experience the things they talked about. I started writing at a young age and reading everything I could get my hands on. At twelve years old I started a storytelling group and several of my friends became writers or poets. At 16 I hopped box cars and worked the tobacco fields, orange groves, picked cotton, and spent many nights around a campfire listing to life stories. Someone once asked me why I wrote. It consumes an amazing amount of time and I assure you it is not going to make me rich. I write so that my children can touch and feel my words telling of the ones that came before us and the stories they told me. These are the chronicles of our family and even though they come from my childhood memories and are deeply rooted in a child’s remembrance at least they may feel what it was like in the time before them and cherish the things the elders left behind. I am a Columnist & Featured Contributor, BIZCATALYST360 and I have The Writers Café, a group on LinkedIn that features Poets, Writers, Artists, Photographers, and Musicians . On Facebook I have two groups and one page; Dirt Road Storytelling, From Abandoned To Rescue Dogs And Cats, and About Life, Love And Living. As writers, it is true that we honestly do not know what we hold within us until we unleash it. When our words inspire others only then will inspiration return to the writer. I will spend my twilight years in search of the next story, the next poem, and the next image. I will take the time to enjoy my Wife, our Dogs, and Cats, and our amazing new home and I will always find the time to walk down a dirt road I truly hope is that I never have to read another book on Leadership, be on a conference call or see another plan o gram as these were the tool for what I did in life and not about who I am.

2 COMMENTS

  1. “giving each of us a chance to talk about our day”

    The tradition of the family meal – that usually leaves people at the table after the food is consumed because we want to talk with each other – was part of my upbringing, too, and I hope my children will bring it forward once they start families.

    Somehow people can be together even if they sit reading different books while it is difficult to feel togetherness when all are engaged with the wider world on different screens.

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