Murcury

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
An elderly man's memories of something that was the most precious thing to him as a child. It is a reminder that we can't forget what we cherish most in this world.

Submitted: October 30, 2011

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Submitted: October 30, 2011

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I can still remember the heat of the summer sun. The smell of the dew
on the apples under the trees in Howard's Orchard. Oh, how the sweet
aroma filled our noses as we picked each ripe fruit by hand at the
close of harvest time.
I can still remember the stream we used to play in every saturday
afternoon as we splashed around in the cool water to keep the Indian
summer heat off of our backs. Small children to teenagers would come
and leave the rest of the world behind. It was a place to meet a
friend or find a sweet summer's romance. It was a place to heal with
an apple in your hand at the bright of morning just before the
children rushed on their bikes to be the first to jump into that cold
spring water.
And at night the lovers came and danced to the varieties of
instruments that came to the party. No sheet music and no plan. Just
spontaneous joy filling the air all around us. We were immerced with
excitment at the close of another day durning our journey in this world.
This was where the sick could rest. Where the children could leave
behind the school books. Where two hearts could meet. Where the lonely
could find a friend and where lost can become found.
I remember the old football feild where we would cheer our team on and
love life. We would sometimes go out in the field to cheer along with
the cheer squad. We would march in the band and eat hot dogs.
I remember the little town we all loved so much. Everyone knew
everyone. Everyone cared for everyone. Everyone loved everyone.
Everyone was family. Towns like that aren't around anymore these days.
When someone died, there was no such thing as a small funeral.
Everyone came and everyone cried and everyone cared.
This is the place I was born, raised, and will die. A place full of
love. A place full of joy. A place where the smallest arguments are
forgotten the next day.
I can still remember the church bells echoing across the skies for
miles every sunday morning at nine. Pastor Gregor would preach us the
Word of God every dawn of the Sabath. After we would all go to his
home to have a breakfast potluck. I can still taste those delicious
strawberries and canalope from the market.
I can still see the birds flying high above us as we all sat around
eating ice cream and drinking pop on the days we weren't at the
orchard or the stream. We would lay in the bean feilds watching the
clouds roll by as they changed shapes from dragons to boats. And when
there where no clouds to gaze at we were either at the orchard or the
stream.
On rainy days I rememebr sitting inside all day waiting for the rain
to stop. I wondered what my friends would be doing as I wondered what
I should be doing at the same time. Some times I'd become a cowboy
having shoot offs with invisible enemies. Then I would take to the
high seas and become a pirate searching for burried treasure which was
always my mother's jewlery box.
I can still remember my mother... I remember how she would comfort me
when I was scared. I remembered how she would be at my side when
things got rough. She would always bandage my knee back up when I
would get hurt and she would cheer me on at our bike races around the
block from which I would get the scraped knee in the first place. We
used to make cookies together during the holidays and make turkey
stuffing on Thanksgiving.
I remember my dad would take me fishing every Monday, Wednesday, and
Friday mornings. He would tuck me in at night and tell me a bedtime
story at the end of every day. He would tell me how to be strong in a
fight and never back down. He used to say that I should never be
afraid of anything for I was as strong as iron. My dad tought me how
to bait a hook and cook the catch. He showed me how to hammer a nail
and fix a leeky pipe. But most of all, I remember him with Mom.
I remember that little town and everything in it. From a tree to a
football play, I remember it all.
That little town was home.
That little town was love.
It was a place for family and friends.
The sick and the lost.
The lovers and the children.
The gone and the new.
The apples and the water.
This little town: Mercury.
 


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