Lonely Farm Girl

Today a student asked me if I liked Jello. She was surprised when I said no. She asked me why and I tried to explain. I am not sure if this is really why I don't like Jello but the reason I gave was that it reminded me of the poverty in my childhood. Jello was a treat we could afford on occasion and maybe we overdid it. I am not sure. Since I had this student's attention I gave her another example of how our likes change over years. As a teenager we had lilac bushes growing around our house. I loved the smell of them and the colour of them. Each spring I made sure every room had a bouquet of lilacs in it. I found them so beautiful I even took a photograph but the beauty was lost because it was in black and white. Today, I cannot stand the fragrance of the flower nor the colour lilac. Lilacs, I explained, might be reminders of a part of my life that I may want to forget. I think the poor girl wished she never asked me about Jello.

I found farm life very lonely. When I was four all of my brothers were attending school and that meant I was the lone child at home with my parents, the farmers. I am not sure what my father did during the day, but I know my mother worked hard all day. My mother did everything a man could do except wear pants. (In her entire life, she never donned a pair of pants.) The morning chores consisted of milking the cows, feeding the pigs, gathering the eggs, seperating the milk and cleaning the barn at least once a week. While she did all the chores, I was her constant companion, helping if I was able.

Today we would call the time my mother and I spent together as `bonding`. At the tender age of four, I became my mother`s confidant. My parents`marriage was not a happy one and my mother shared her misery with me. I had no choice but to listen to her and often cry with her. I wish we would have laughed and played together instead.

I missed my brothers and often I would wait by the driveway for their return from school. I wanted to play. I wanted to laugh. I wanted to learn English! The brothers spoke to each other in English but still spoke Polish to me. I would hang around and listen to them speaking this new language, wonder what it was they were saying, and long for the day when I,too, could go to school.