Wisdom of the Ages

This article is an excerpt of an upcoming book.

I grew up like a weed in the unplowed fields of Grandpa's farm,

With clover, ferns, and wildflowers, but nothing of harm,

Just the voices of the earth whispering gently to me.

From the Oklahoma plains to the tallest oak tree,

From the gentle rolling hills to the nearby woods.

It was the best beginning, the best of childhoods.

One night, as we sat on a blanket in his front yard, the old man asked, "Have you ever seen a shooting star, Li'l Bit? Grandpa Sutton's eyes were sparkling like embers, glowing in the dark. As a young city girl, I looked up at him, my curiosity aroused. "Nope, I replied. my voice, a blend of innocence and wonder. He chuckled and pointed his weathered finger at the expanse above us.' They're like wishes, but the ones that fly. You've gotta be quick to catch 'em though, he said with a smile that crinkled his eyes.

Feeling the cool grass under my palms, I pushed myself up onto my elbows. The sky was a campus of deepening blues, and the first stars were beginning to peek through like sparkling sugar on a chocolate cake.

I squinted, eager to spot my first shooting star. The quiet country sky was broken only by the distant hoot of an owl. The one that roosted in Grandpa's hay loft. Grandpa said it was wise, having seen more years than anyone else in the area.

The next afternoon, I was drawn to the barn. Its wood was weathered by time, and the earthy smells were comforting. As I entered, with the support of my crutch-like walking stick that Grandpa had carved from an old oak tree. I heard fluttering from the rafters. Looking up, I saw the owl, larger than I had imagined and with a fierce gaze. I don't know how long I stayed there, lost in a moment of peace and tranquility, but as the sun drew low in the sky, casting long shadows, I knew that I had found my place in this old, forgotten corner of my world. Grandpa's field would become my playground, and the barn, my sanctuary.