The Farm- narrative

Sam Lehn

The Farm

Epigraph: “buy what thou hast no need of, and ere long thou shalt sell thy necessaries”

It was still dark when John awoke from his restless sleep. He rose up from his bed, and could not help but notice that he was shivering because of the odd dream he could not recall. Perhaps it had been about his father, who had died a year ago to this day. A sudden crushing seer of anguish ran down John’s spine and he decided it was time to get some fresh air. He softly crept down the creaky stairs, slipped passed the chamber where his three kids slept soundly, and reached the door. His feet still bare, John turned the cold doorknob and swung it open, feeling the refreshing cold breeze.

 It was a crisp, autumn morning and the sun was peeking out over the trees. John walked out, to the wooden planked porch overlooking the farm. As his bare feet touched the wooden planks, he felt a sharp sting of cold rush to his feet. John walked to his rocking chair which held the bible where he had been reading the night before. John picked up the frosted over bible and clasped it to his body to warm it up. With the bible in his hands, John sat down on the frigid chair.

“No wonder you were so cold, my friend,” remarked John, feeling a chill migrate though his body.

Before opening the bible John observed the surreal environment around him. A foggy mist loomed across the farm, surrounded by trees with colors of red, orange, and yellow. A small, brown barn lay in the distance, partially hidden by the thick fog. After soaking in the environment, John began to read.

A few minutes passed and John heard a creek at the door followed by the sound of two little feet swiftly skipping towards him.

“Good morning, Daddy!” said the overly jubilant young Sally,

 “I heard you on the stairs, I had a scary dream.”

John quickly jumped to his feet and picked Sally up into his arms.

“You may join me whenever you like!” said John.

 John sat down on the chair, Sally still in his arms, propped her on his knee, and continued to read the bible aloud. By the time John finished, and he set the satisfied Sally on the wooden planks, the sun had risen above the trees and the foggy mist began to fade away.

“I think it’s time to wake up your brothers,” John told Sally, and, without words, Sally darted into the house to the children’s’ room.

It was a Sunday, and the family had to get ready for Church.

It didn’t feel like a normal Sunday to John. As the family walked from their house to the town church, down the worn dirt road, John kept to himself, observing everything around him. He felt that something was missing, wrong, misplaced. What is wrong, he thought. He could not account for the empty feeling inside his heart. Maybe it is my father, he thought, maybe I missed him.

Suddenly, they were at the church doors, being greeted by their minister.

“Good morning, Mr. Schmidt, how are you feeling? I remember last week you mentioned this Sunday might be a bit of a tough one-you know, with your father gone. I’m so sorry for your-“

“Thank you, I’m fine,” John said abruptly, cutting the minister off.

“Would you like to say anything in front of the congregation after my sermon?” asked the minister, “I know a lot of people miss your father”.

“Maybe,” responded John, quickly moving past the minister into the Church.

John did not know why, but he didn’t want to speak to anyone. He felt confused and disoriented. His mind had become clouded with images of his father and their times together. He felt as though his movements were being controlled by an external force. He fell into the seat next to his wife, Rhonda.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” asked Rhonda, “You seem lost. Is it your father?”

“I’m fine!” snapped John.

“You’re not fine. I can tell that”, she stated calmly.

John knew Rhonda could tell something was wrong. She always knew. She could tell if someone was sad from a mile away and always gave good advice. But today, John wanted to keep to himself.

“I’m sorry, I just need some time to think,” said John.

She nodded and went back to talking with their sons.

The minister began to give his opening speech. John tried to listen but his thoughts went to his father. He tried to suppress his thoughts, but failed and the stories poured in. They were a slideshow of memories. Along with the memories came a deep knot in John’s gut that tightened as the memories came.

John saw the large blue vessel he travelled to America in with his father and mother when he was 12. He remembered how scared he was and how every night before he went to bed on the boat, his father embraced him in an exuberant hug and told him that everything would be okay.

His memories skipped to three years later. John was helping his mother clean up the 8 by 10 meter room they called home. John’s father blithely swung open the door to announce that he had finally saved enough money to buy a plot of land west of Boston. John remembered vividly how his father’s lighthearted attitude was in complete contrast to his physical appearance. His hands were bloody and ripped, and his face looked beat up with bruises and scars. Yet, if all you heard was his father’s voice, you would think he had just stuck gold. His father was always happy, no matter what.

Memory by memory John went through. He thought how strong and dedicated his father was to his work. It always amazed John how his father built an entire new life for his family in only 25 years. With his bare hands, his father built a sturdy home,  barn, and successful farm.

As memories of his father’s accomplishments continued, John felt more and more irritated with himself. What have I done? John thought as anger built up inside him. I have done nothing successful! Nothing to help my family! I am nothing like my father. Suddenly, a deep feeling of guilt rushed through John’s body, numbing him to the bone. I have failed my father, he thought.

John suddenly realized the Minister was calling his name.

“John! John! Would you like to speak to the congregation about your father?”

John looked up and quietly said “no”.

He forced his sunken body to rise, and dragged it out of the Church.

John spent the rest of the day walking around the town, pondering his burdened heart. He felt isolated from the world, banished from civilization because of his failure.

After a while, he decided to stop at a park bench. Sitting down, his thoughts continued until he saw a poster on a tree right across from him.

It read “Barry’s Pub! Play big win big in our black jack games”.

Suddenly, John thought. That’s how I can make my family extraordinary! All I have to do is win at blackjack!

That night, after his family went to bed, John snuck around the house gathering all the money he could find. As he looked through the drawers he found the deed to the farm. After a short hesitation, he grabbed it.

With all the money and the deed to the farm, John walked excitedly to Barry’s Pub. As he walked, he thought about what he would do with the money he won. He would buy the finest jewels and clothing for his wife. He would hire workmen to farm for him. He would buy the finest meats! Between the money John made and the things his father had left him, the family had what they needed, but this was John’s chance for more to give to his family like his father had given to his. Barry’s pub smelled of tobacco and liquor. He walked directly to the blackjack table, sat down and placed his first bet. Five cents. Not much money, but John wanted to see how his luck would play out. The dealer flipped two cards on the table. A queen and a 10! Excellent, he thought luck might just be on my side. “I’ll stay,” he said. The dealer hit and busted. Great! I won my first game. Now on to the next! John raised his bet.

This continued throughout the night, and the more John won, the larger risks he took until he prepared to bet the deed to his farm. Sure, he had won enough money now to repair the home, enlarge the farm, and to buy the nice clothing for his wife, but John’s mind raced to thoughts of what he could have. A mansion. Servants. Gold and silver.

 “Are you sure you want to bet that?” asked the dealer with an uncertain look.

“Just show me my cards” demanded John, sure that he just won the life he’d been waiting for.

The dealer dealt the cards. John had an 16.

 “Hit me” said John with a smirk on his face.

The dealer picked up the card from his deck, flipped the card, and swung it to John. It was a seven. The dealers hand gathered up the money and the deed to the farm.