In Another Time

In the middle of Paseo Bridge in the midst of the downtown traffic bouncing and plowing their own trails home from work, I couldn't help but wish I was born long ago, living a frontier woman's life.  I know that life was full of hard work; if you know me at all, you know that doesn't bother me. 

I imagined so clearly, being out in the garden and gathering up the day's harvest.  I am ready with water I had carried from the clear, cold creek to wash and process the vegetables for our dinner on our homemade table.  I can smell the earth as I pluck and cut the vegetables from their roots and vines.  Sitting, stopped in the rush of the downtown traffic, I yearn for the dirt that would be packed under my broken fingernails and the sweet, fresh air of the heartland frontier.  I can hear the Bible being read to my family from the front porch where my husband sits rocking, finally resting in his favorite chair we made from the old oak tree felled by lightening last spring.  The skip of the children and shuffle of animals around the house that we built with local logs and rock gives my heart's joy quiet strength and a significance I find difficult to grasp parked on this bridge. 

A sigh turns me back to my country dreams.  My apron full of tender treasures, I smell the pork in the smokehouse we built last fall.  "Better get a piece of that made up into meat pies for the shindig tomorrow," I thought. Finishing the neighbor's barn always calls for a  big dance!  I lay the vegetables gingerly in the bucket by the door, and head to the smokehouse.  My husband rises to join me.

The warm night comes hard and dark.  Overtired and too hot to sleep, we shuffle down to the creek and skinny dip in the moonlight!  Deep breaths, exhausted and full of love, we hold each other's slick, cool bodies, searching for the depth and surrender...  finding it among the trees and wild night.  Then, we sleep~ curled up around each other waiting, longing for the next day, together,  He'll take a bow and wink at me, steady even as a whisp of tenderness floats across his eyes.  I'll blush and curtsy, gracious and devoted to the rough, worked hands that faithfully reach out for mine.  Promenade right...  What a life...  What a love...