Lydia

Wheat and Train Tracks

     Sometimes I feel like the wheat fields are talking to me. I tried to explain it to my family at dinner one time and the boys all laughed. All except for my daddy.

     With a fork in one hand and a knife in the other, he stared at me with a simple smile on his dirt-stained face. Nobody understands me quite like he does. I'm his girl and he always tells me that, whether-or-not I like it, it shines out of my skin like a door to heaven.

     Once they were done getting in their good laugh at 'little Lydia,' Daddy cleared his throat like a preacher getting ready to serve a sermon. He placed his utensils down on a napkin and leaned far back in his chair.

     "It would pay y'all some good mind ta listen to yer sister," he began, taking the time to look at each one of my brothers. "Maybe if ya did that, y'all would be less stupid and more imaginative," he suggested, taking the word imaginative real slow so that he hit every syllable.

     My brothers all kept their eyes glued to their plates, too ashamed to look the man in the eye. Being called stupid must not feel too good when the words come from your own father. But he was right and it felt just fine to me.

     Levi looked over at me from his seat at the dinner table, a sudden interest filling his expression. "Maybe if ya told us more we could undah'stand, Lyd," he said, quickly resuming his task of shoving green beans in his mouth.

     Usually, Mamma would remain silent in this sort of situation. But there was something different about this time. So, with the baby in her lap, fussily eating from her hand, she set the most angry look I've ever seen her dare to use on the eldest, golden sibling.

     "Hush up Levi Jones," she began, causing him to stop eating mid bite. "Yer sittin' there like a sack a potatoes, questionin' yer sister's intelligence." After a few huffy breaths rising from her chest, she opened her mouth once more, unleashing a flood gate of fire. "You don't deserve to have her tell ya anythin' after what you boys have gone and done. Lydia Grace is a smart girl and though I don't undah'stand why, I try my best to heed the words that come from that mouth of hers."

     With that, she handed the baby off to the child next to her and left the room. Daddy followed after her, pausing after he got up from his chair to give the boys one last look of disapproval.

     We all sat in silence for what felt like forever before I broke the tension.

     "All I meant," I began, feeling the words form like butter in my mouth. "Is that wheat is one of God's many ways of talkin' to us."

     They still didn't understand what I was saying and it made me wonder if I even knew what I meant.

     Daniel Morris understood though.

     That same night, after dinner, I was out in the fields, staring up at the dark, starry sky. Daniel and I were lying beside one another, laughing and having a good time like we always did. I brought up the subject of wheat once more, trying desperately to find someone who could grasp what I was saying.

     "Sometimes I think the wheat is talkin' to us, Daniel," I said, turning my head to look at the boy laying next to me. He didn't look back, a strange expression on his face, and he didn't erupt in laughter.

    "What does it sound like?" he asked, his chin lifted high as he looked out into the limitless skies.

     I hadn't thought about the answer to his question and I found myself thinking really hard to do so.

     "I hear the flappin' of buttah'fly wings," he stated.

     It was then that I realized that's what I hear too.

     I'm ripped out of the memory when I hear the whistle of the morning train whizzing by. It catches me off guard, making the ground rumble underneath me.

     The sun beats down on me, spotting my vision as I get closer to the edge of town. I lift a hand to my forehead, shielding my eyes from the harshness of light. I'm looking for him and I know that he's here. He's always here, working and minding his own business. Sometimes I question if he ever goes home at night.

     Sure enough, his shadow comes into view after my eyes focus. The dark blob starts to take formation, turning into the boy smiling a hundred feet away. I come to a quick stop, my body reacting differently than I expected it to.

     I haven't seen Daniel Morris since the start of summer.

     He's mid-conversation when he suddenly catches my gaze, unsure at first if his sight betrays him. Next thing I know he's running toward me, hardly stopping for anybody passing. It takes me a while to start his way, but when I do I start to laugh uncontrollably.

     I'm not even to the train tracks yet when he collides with me, taking me up in his arms and spinning me around. He places me down just as quickly as he lifted me up. "It cain't be you, can it?"

     I hold myself up by clasping my arms to his, slightly dizzy but whirring with exhilaration.

     "No," I begin, "I'm but a vision, a figment of yer imagination."

     Daniel Morris has been granted a gift by God. For instance, he's closer to the heavens than any of us, his long limbs a challenge to many trees. But besides his great height, he has to have one of the kindest faces I've ever seen. I watch as he scratches the side of his jaw, his tan skin layered with slight smudges of dirt and sprinkled with sparse freckles. The result of too much sun and a natural essence of charm.

     He slides his hands into mine, lifting my arms with them. "Ya sure seem real," he says, his voice reduced to a whisper. His eyes lift up to mine, a sheepish look transforming his face.

     We stay there for a moment before he quickly drops his arms back to his side, doing anything with his hands besides having them on me.

     "How are ya?" he asks, taking on a more adult tone.

     I float my gaze around, looking for the source of his bashfulness. There's no one around and I can't help but feel self conscious about his actions. As though he's developed this sudden awareness of what his involvement with me might look like.

     Is it possible that the boy who spent many nights talking in the fields with me, has come across a newfound embarrassment?

     I push the thought down and focus back on him. "I'm fine, Daniel. How are you?"