Once in a while
Memory takes me back in time
To a dirt road through a forest of oak and pine
When as a young child
I walked to Grandma and Grandpa's place
Eager to see the happy smile on their face
That the younguns had come for a visit
And maybe help with the chores
And later play in the dirt yard
While they sat beside the open door.

Always they asked how the folks are
For we didn't see much of them
Although they didn't live that far
For you see back then
We either walked or rode in a wagon
Because nobody had a car.

When twilight came as the sun went down
We went inside and lit the coal oil lamp
And gathered around the kitchen table
Spread with a pretty floral oilcloth
To eat a supper of simple fare
Supplied from the garden tended with care
And cooked on the wood cook stove
In the kitchen corner alcove.

Bed time came early back then
Because to waste the lamp oil was a sin
So we hit the hay and laid down our head
On the feather bed spread with rough sheets
Made from fertilizer sacks sun bleached
And soon were in dream land, sweet
Sleeping in the corner on the iron bedstead.

With the dawning of the new day
The rooster gave us a wake up call
With a hearty cock-a-doodle-doo
So we crawled out of bed without delay.
It was unheard of to sleep in
For there were chores to do
Helping Grandma and Grandpa all we could
Before starting our walk back home
Down the same dirt road through the woods
Walking side by side, my sister and I,
Singing a merry song.

What fun it was to walk to Grandma and Grandpa's,
A mere two miles away
Not a long distance back then
For we started early before the sun got high
Happy as could be
Searching the fluffy clouds in the sky
To see what animals floating there we could see.

The dirt road went down a hill
And the stream at the bottom was a thrill
To wade in water chilly to our bare feet.
We would splash and laugh and squeal
Trying not to get wet
'Cause Mama would be upset
If we came home wet knowing we had dawdled
Rather than coming straight home.

At unexpected times memory flashes back then
To the coolness of the wooded glen
With the dirt road winding through
And walking along for a visit
Wishing once more
I could walk that road as I used to do
And see Grandma and Grandpa
Waving from their open front door.

Jane Ward Smith©
September 3, 2007
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