A Harbor of Memories

The center of farm life in my day

A Time to Remember
Memories
By Ronnie Powell
I remember dusty cornfields, green meadows and fresh mown hay.
I remember threshing time and shocks of wheat and oats standing at attention across the fields and a cool watermelon waiting in the spring below the house.
I remember a Model T Ford, a grand old Nash and a green Forty Eight Plymouth.
I fondly remember a dog named Brownie who always brought in the cows.
I remember a treasure box I buried long ago, filled with coins, beads, two old pocket knives and a photo of Lash Lurue.
I remember vividly cold winter mornings, a bowl of hot oatmeal and blackstrap molasses and then a nap in the wood box behind the cook stove.
I remember the Sundays I spent at Aunt May’s and the mysteries of her attic.
I remember steaming hot cornbread, fried chicken and apple pie.
I remember corn picking time, frosty mornings and huge yellow pumpkins.
I remember Stella Dallas, Terry and the Pirates and the Grand Ol Oprey.
I remember the dreadful sound of the Atom Bomb on the radio that changed the world and its people.
I remember an old suitcase and a country road that lead me away from my childhood.
I remember a phone call one early morning and the voice on the line informing me of my twin brother’s untimely death.
I remember a basketball game at Windyville and a lovely young woman who captured my heart.
I remember the birth of each child and the years that followed.
I remember the secrets revealed to me of the ages found along the Niangua River.
I remember villages of long ago, their images fading and then reappearing in the morning mist.
I remember miles and miles of a lifetime and yet the burden is light as I continue toward a distant horizon. Adios