Take me back to a time and place where life was slow moving and not at a rushed and hurried pace. No cellphones existed, nor t.v.’s or tapes.
Communication was walking down the road for a spell to drink a few drinks with people who knew you all too well. Friends would stay for a while, sitting upon benches made from large trees that had fell.
Porches strewn with men and women alike, telling tall tales deep into the night. Women would blaze a hearth fire, cooking up meat and stews to fill any man’s heart with freshly caught fish and chickens caught by the hardworking men who came and went on horse and cart.
Many people didn’t have a choice but to walk upon the hard unforgiving ground. Stomping miles upon miles where there was barely anyone around.
Grass was always long and green, smelling of sweet onion and aromas unseen. Flowers shown brightly between the thickness of leaves nestled within the tall unforgiving trees.
Row upon row were fields that fed the masses. Corn, tomatoes, potatoes and sugar that made sweet molasses.
Cotton to clothe their backs and rice to fill the plentiful food sacks.
Children wandered unafraid of the dark. Only lightening bugs and crickets could give them a start. Bonfires twinkled with orange fire-light while the thick gray smoke rose and swelled long into the night.
Music made by wood and fiddle played joyous sounds that had the people smile and giggle.
Love was simple and kind and not hard to capture as gratitude and thankfulness were part of the rapture.
The community grew together and became stronger with time. In a place like this church that was once strong enough to withstand the weather and hard time.
Hundreds of years have passed, but the memories still remain. Not in words but in the hearts of homely people who knew what it was to love one another with all their hearts that will still remain.