I was listening to a "new" old song. It's new to me, but it's been around a few years, and it's called "Dream." It talks about how the singer was a dreamer as a child and playing pretend. Of course the singer was alone. This song made me think of my life growing up and on the farm. I loved growing up where I did. It was close to town, but far enough away to have some privacy. The entire farm was my playground. My playmates were any of the 50 or more stray cats that figured out if they stuck around my mom would feed them. Sometimes, my playmates were a horse, or a dog. Sometimes the bottle lambs or calves, and lots of times, my sisters.
My parents were not rich in terms of money, but to me, I didn't know the difference. With everything I had as a child, how could I not be rich? We had awesome trees that held our forts; the south pasture had a hill and rocks on the hillside that were a mystery to me; we had a small pond(when it rained heavily) in the pasture; the hay bales had awesome hiding powers and it was cool to play tag on them. We could spend our entire day outside exploring our farm and "dreaming" of what mysteries and adventures we were partaking in.
Despite all my past misfortunes, I thank God for giving me a wonderful childhood. I had so much fun. Of course, times weren't easy for my parents, but they gave us their all, and I can't thank my parents and God enough for the pure joy bestowed on me.
I still dream that I am at the farm house. I wanted so bad to leave there. When the fire department burned down the buildings, I felt closure that that part of my life had ended. However, I still catch myself driving by the former farm and remembering what life was like years ago. I also miss the farm, space, and privacy. Someday, I hope I can live on a farm again.
