Those Glory Days

.....read to find out

The golden rays of the dawn sun stretched out across the wide expanse of dried grass that lay knee high around me turning the pale weeds a sparkling amber. Wind rippled the soft summer leaves of the canopy of oak trees surrounding the lone meadow. Birds called out to one another sharing the past days travel in their secret language I wish to know. Peace was bountiful and golden days were every day and golden nights filled our hearts with the beauty of the world as droopy eyes were over come with exhaustion from the days misadventures. 

To be truthful I miss those glory days, those calm yet exciting days where no one knew what was around the corner except that it was going to as amazing and spectacular as the last gift mother earth gave us. Now days seem to drag on and on like a broken record that just can't be fixed no matter how hard you tried to be optimistic. What had happen over that one winter that had destroyed the fun? Who was to know. Even my grandfather who always bragged on and on about how wise he was didn't have a clue. I know he does, I know it, but Grandpa wasn't a lier. He only lied when he knew that the outcome of the truth was worse than keeping it a secret. Perhaps now was on of those times. 

My name is Savannah. I'm seven years old and live with my grandpa on a small house by the river that drains into the cool water of Shadow lake. Grandpa says he named me Savannah 'cause of my beautiful blond hair that turned golden in the sun. I doubt it. I think he just misses his old home in Africa.

"Savannah! Savannah where are you? Its time to eat" I heard my grandpa call from the porch as I looked out into the old meadow with a sorrowful look. My little knife fell from my hand along with the piece of wood I was carving when I heard him holler out my name in the crisp spring air. 

"You scared me." I frowned and looked down at my knife a half finished carving. Dust floated down covering the objects with a hazy layer of pale brown.

Grandpa was trying to teach me how to carve. He said that he was the best carver of his town in Africa, I think he's just bragging again though. I stuffed my incomplete carving into my secret hole in my favorite pine tree and grabbed my pocket knife.

People here in my town need to be able to take care of themselves, even kids like me. With wolves and bears and all those wild animals lurking around who knows when they'll come too close for comfort. 

Glancing over my shoulder at that pale lonely meadow I headed inside for dinner.

Author's Note

what do you think?

Reviews

[Review]

love the imagery. feels like an old person remembering their good old childhood in a sad thoughtful way intriguing.
**Review**