Child's Play: A Field of Dreams

Memories of childhood flashed through my mind in random vignettes, tugging at me like a small child. These separate threads of dark and light woven together provided a richness and beauty to my life.

Lying sprawled on my back, breathless after a race with the wind, my brown-eyes wide with wonder peered upwards into the sky. Clothed in an azure blue suit, unbuttoned to the waist, the sky revealed its vast expanse as my mind floated on the back of a giant white elephant.

My incessant curiosity as a child to explore life and nature contributed to the spontaneous child-like wonder that is so much a part of my life today.

Growing up, my family lived in Kentucky, well known for its hearty bluegrass, although I'm not quite sure I ever saw blue grass unless I was standing on my head. 

The locals referred to our town as E-town, short for Elizabethtown. We occupied a one-story redbrick ranch on the corner of Clifford Drive, a cul-de-sac- a fancy word for a loop with no end. A wild overgrown field bordered the back edge of our yard. It was a field of dreams for a child's imagination.

The rays of sunlight caught on a spider's silken threads reveal the stories woven by my child's imagination.

Day or night, captivated by life's mystery, I would venture into the unknown -- my curiosity in hand and an open mind rich with possibilities. I scrutinized every inch of life from the endless sky to the tender new blades of grass. 

Crouched low on my haunches, my breath held tight and little pink lips pursed, I courageously reached for my next adventure. Upturned rocks sent legions of potato bugs, in their gray armored uniforms, scurrying in confusion. A grin stretched from ear to ear as peels of delights escaped my lips in a steady stream.

Racing through a sea of golden meadow, I chased butterflies in flight and tried to catch dandelions bursting with their whispers of delight.

Stopping to worship nature's mysteries...I knelt before the milkweed pods - small stone churches finely built with rough-bouldered walls. White cream overflowed as they burst with promise at the seams. All hope was lost, though, if opened too soon, as the seeds of promise still clung (wet with fear) to the core.A few weeks later, weathered by the heat of sun­­, the doors flew open as a procession of angels, clothed in white silk robes, ascended skyward, with their tiny brown-covered prayer books clasped in hand. In the stillness of this wondrous sight, their whispering voices sang the praise and glory of a new life.

Summer smelled of hot grass steaming in the midday sun -- a well-seasoned kettle feast brimming with life. Sunlit-drenched fields of wild flowers and Brown-eyed Susans smiled gracefully as they swayed to the rhythms of the gentle winds.

Brown and orange 'wooly bears' lumbered across knotted twigs and crisp leaves. Soon they were to lay out their white gauze sheets and snuggle into sleep dreaming of winged flight.

As dusk spread its deep velvet blanket quietly over the fields, the hushed stillness of the passing day gave way to the night. Small fluorescent lanterns blinked out Morse code as fireflies signaled to far off friends. 

They hovered over the land, mini helicopters suspended in flight. It was a successful night when we arrived home victory in hand, with tightly sealed mason jars glowing with tails of light.

The high-stepping crickets, too quick to catch, dashed off to their black-tie affairs. The high steady hum of cicadas signaled the finale of summer's symphony.

The years pass and memories fade in and out like shadows filtered through stands of tall pine. Released from the chrysalis, I've outgrown my childish ways, now transformed into joyous flight.

Original: October 2001