The Truth about Me...

     As a young girl, I had the privilege of growing up on a farm. My childhood home wasn't the typical farm you'd see on movies where the children run eagerly to the scarlet-coloured barn to fetch pails of milk from the eager father in overalls, a red shirt, big black boots, and a straw hat. No. But, we did have cows. And, we also had pigs. We had acres and acres of rolling farmland--wide, green pastures bordered by a thin stretch of towering pines and gum trees, ancient white oaks... and a dense grove of emerald kudzu and sage ivy.
     Sure, we had a barn. It was decrepit but sturdy. It's antiquated walls, forever copper-coloured, were never painted. And, I seriously doubt that anyone had ever attempted to do so.
     The barn was filled with bales of hay. I mean, there were stacks upon stacks of the stuff--thousands of stray, pallid-gold blades littered the floor. And, the smell... The smell may be the reason why I utterly adore Home Depot to this day. The air was sickeningly sweet, stagnant, and it smelled of sweet oats and warm mist... barley, fresh wood chips and sawdust.
    Some days, I would go out to the barn and just sit on the lower deck inside. I'd just sit and stare across at faint streams of gold and illumined green seeping through the numerous cracks and chasms in the wooden walls and door--until I'd hear my mother calling for me to come inside.
     

Alas, a portion of childhood I pride myself on remembering--

Sincerely,

--Jen.