My Life Between the Dimensions

Secrets and memories of Grandma's root cellar, the headless man, the roosters, and a rural farm in the 1950's in the Ozark foothills of Wayne County, Missouri.   Shadows.  Some light fog and mist.  I wonder if I could somehow step through it?  Go back to that time almost seventy years ago?  Would that rooster be waiting for me there still?  The black walnut tree?  The woodpile? Is it possible to remember joy and be overwhelmed with sadness at the same time?  Maybe that fits somewhere in the very definition of nostalgia. A few years ago we made the trip back to what once was the small farm of my grandmother, Bessie Wilson, near Greenville, Missouri in the Ozark foothills of Wayne County, Missouri.  The house now is in total ruin and a few of the wooden outbuildings have succumbed to weather, decay, mold, and mildew and have become as one with nature.  But not the stone masonry of the old freestanding root cellar.  It still stands an...

Wayne County, Missouri 8.12.17   60 years ago I sat on this rock and wondered about what all the ancient symbols could mean. The rock was in the old Southern's pasture and it was passed each and every time we walked down to our old swimming hole in Reece's Creek. Some of my favorite memories of cousins, including Pam, Connie, Ronnie, and Susie and of course AUNT Bev were gathered here like precious stones and stored for frequent recall and wonder. Thank you sweet Bev, who I love more than I can express, for making possible the flood of emotions of seeing the old rock once more, untarnished and still presenting as much challenge and intrigue as a good detective story. It was easy to imagine holding Pammie's hand on a scorching summer day and jumping off the creek bank to the giggles of a gaggle of waiting cousins (and an Aunt) below.  And, then coming back up the slope to dry off sitting on the rock in the summer sun before entreating bare feet to make the march back up the ...