This place stays where it has always been,
implanted not only in the earth but also in the imagination. My grandparents
used to live on this land, land that has always proved the enigmatic Tara in my
life, a sort of collective daydream for my entire family, especially now that
the house no longer stands and part of the land has been sold,
but I can look over the
fence and see where my cousins and I learned to swim. The ancient black oak still
fills the sky above the swing where my grandmother would sing me nursery rhymes. Though now, the neighbors’ own
overzealous breed of Cerberus tends to keep the tree company.
However, one barn remains
on my family’s side of the fence, and so a new dream begins, a dream of breezy outdoor
movies and twinkly party lights glowing into the night.
After mowing the sea of
grass this week (in an air-conditioned, CD-playing tractor, I might add),
my sister and I can get out
the tall ladder to hang a big, white sheet from the side of the barn before
setting up the movie projector. We’ll
have a place for picnic blankets and for summertime refreshments, and everyone
we know can mingle before enjoying a great movie under the stars.
On other evenings, flowering
vines accent both of the giant doors that will be open to let in a country view, and
party goers (maybe even a bride and groom) will dance the night away in a place
decorated especially for them. I can already see the cleaned stables
transformed into sweet dressing rooms or a hard working catering area and
friends strolling across the grass.
Can you imagine?
I can.
Maybe, this is not just a dream…
