as my mind begins to slow there is a picture coming into focus...i see a field of corn rows...an old rustic barn that the wind rushes through...the weather beaten sides are a bluish gray from the rains that have been absorbed into the grain over the years...i see a small two story wooden farm house...with smoke emitting from the chimney...the smell of homemade bread baking in an old wood cook stove fills the air...my mind goes back in time to when i was no bigger than toddler...in my blue denim overalls i sit at a table that i can barely see over...there are fresh apples being peeled by my mother...as she prepares a fresh apple pie for baking...she hands me a slice and smiles at me...i take the sliced apple and look up into her brown eyes that sparkle like two gems from a pirates treasure...she begins to roll out the pastry dough...sprinkling flour on to the large wooden table...i see through the window my grandfather picking the ears of ripe corn by hand...his dog tedy following by his side...the sun is begining to lower and the smell of baking bread and wood smoke over take my thoughts...i turn to my mother and she lifts me back up into my chair at the table and kisses my cheek...i watch intensely as she goes about preparing the evening meal of beef stew, fresh bread and a deep dish apple pie for dessert. my eyes close and my mind slows to a crawl where it comes to rest...at least for the moment
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