Picturesque

“What’s that?”

“I don’t know for sure. Someone’s photo that slipped out of this book I picked up at the library. I think it’s a young girl, or possibly a boy. Hard to tell, it’s so grainy and old. The black and white is more like brown and browner. My Father had a whole cigar box full of pictures like this. I’d ask him about who the people were when he’d pull them out from under his bed. He’d look at them, and kind of drift off into dream space. I’d ask who they were? If they were relatives, friends, and he’d always say, “I really have no idea anymore.” Strange you’d be lookin at pictures of people you didn’t know. But then, he'd look at me sometimes like that too.

I don’t know if I believed him about the people in the pictures.. He was like that, secretive sometimes. It was as if he had these memories and he wanted to keep them for himself. The pictures, he kind of let them out of the box, it brought them back to life so they could visit him. Come to think of it, I never knew him to look as happy as when he was looking at those pictures.

It's an old picture, look here on the back, 1949."

“Over there in the corner, that looks like a scarecrow to me. You know, the kind they used to put in the garden to keep the birds away. Stuffed old clothes with straw or whatever, and made a figure that looked like a real person. Supposed to scare the birds so they’d leave the garden alone. I guess it worked or they wouldn’t have kept doing it. They got a big festival every year upstate where people come from all over with scarecrows they made. 

They have a big parade and then they judge the one “Best of the Garden,” and you get a trophy, and get your picture taken with the world’s largest pumpkin. I don’t think the pumpkin is real cause it looks like the same one every year, but then it might be, but I don’t know how you’d get the largest pumpkin prize every year in the same place.”

“This picture is of no scarecrow. It is I’m sure a young child. Probably a girl, the dress and all. But then back then boys at that age kind of wore gown like things too that looked like dresses. The face and hair though, curls, bet it’s a young girl. Probably her birthday, or she was just back from church.”

“You got all that from a picture I can barely make out. Looks more like someone spilled chocolate milk on a picture of a corn field.”

“No, look here. The girl is smiling. You must see that?”

“Wasn’t that…whatever it is, over there on the other side of the picture the last time I looked?”

“I don’t see how that could be possible. You’re not remembering right. But I know somehow she wasn’t back from church. It was the last day of school, that’s it. They dressed up to have their pictures taken. I feel it like I was there.”

“How could you possibly know that?”

“I don’t know, but I know that’s where she was, and why she’s dressed up. You see school back then was a big deal. Not everyone got to go, and those that did, usually only went to sixth grade. Dad told me about that. He only got to go to sixth grade.

They were needed on the farm. That is one of the reason people had a lot of kids. Not all of them lived, and those that did were needed to keep the farm going when the parents got old. They needed to count on someone to take care of them. They didn’t have all the things like we have today, nursing homes, senior centers, things like that. Just the way things were. Can you imagine knowing what you were going to be or be doing, when you hadn’t even got out of school yet? Your life was all planned out and you hadn’t really lived hardly any of it yet.”

“You need to stop day dreaming about the old days, and look closely at this picture. Either my eyes have suddenly gotten much better, or this picture is becoming clearer. Can you see that?”

“Look, what I know is that this girl lives on the old Turner Farm. I don't know how I know it, but I know it. 

It was the farm where they built the new mall on the edge of town. My Father used to talk about that place and that farm. He grew up down the road about a mile or so farther out, talked about the Turners a lot. They were the most successful family in the area, until things started going bad. 

He said some disease came, just like a storm he said. They lost two children. Mrs. Turner he said was so despondent, she drowned herself. Or that was the story he said. Max Turner, the grandfather died from it, as did his wife Genevieve. Then Bill they found him out in the ditch at the edge of the field. The old tractor tipped over, pinned him under it. He didn’t make it either. Estelle, the youngest, he didn’t say what happened to her.

Dad said the farm got sold, but no matter who bought it, it never worked out. It got so people believed there was something funny about the place. He said they didn’t talk about spirits and things like that back then except in church, superstitious stuff. But people began to see lights in the house at night, or so they was telling people, and no one was living there. The power had been turned off for a long time. The buildings were falling down he’d said. 

Neighbors rented the land, but they couldn’t get anything to grow. The corn died, the alfalfa molded, even when it hadn’t been rained on. Then the barn and house caught on fire and burned to the ground.”

“Your father remembered all that, amazing. Look at this picture. You see the barn, way in the back, the house on the side, and that little girl. She seems to be getting clearer. Look at that girl’s face. Looks a lot like you. You related to those Turner people by chance?

Are you all right? You are starting to look pale, like all the blood has gone out of you. Can I get you something?”

“It’s just the heat, I could use some water though if you don't mind.”

“Hang on, I'll get some ice from the fridge. You just sit…that picture you are holding is a bright as if you’d just taken it. And you on the other hand seem to be disappearing, or my eyes have begun to play tricks on me again. Let me look at that photo.”

“I remember that day. My mother had bought me this new dress. It was a very big deal. We only got clothes when school started, and then only if the crops did well. The last few years we didn’t have much. Everything was falling apart. I remember when Billy died. I had never seen anyone that had died before. Kind of like what happened to the corn. He just disappeared. There was nothing left but dirt.”

“Melany, look at this picture. The girl seems to be smiling and the colors, it’s just like a painting, a miracle of sorts…Melany? Mel?”

I put the picture back in the book and took it back to the library that very night. I put it in the drop box and felt a profound relief for some reason. It was as if a huge weight had been lifted from me.

I had a hard time sleeping after that though. Pictures of all the things she talked about and then some, kept flashing in my mind like I was watching a movie. One of those old ones where everything moves fast. Funny thing though, it was in color. All those kids lined up on the school steps and this guy with one of those cameras you crawled into. And everything was in color. And I kept wondering about Melany. Wasn't like her to just get up and go, especially the way she was looking. But then maybe she just didn't feel well.

It was like I was dreaming, but I know I wasn’t. It was more like seeing a book, not reading it, and having all the characters become real, alive. I must have fallen asleep, I don't remember.

That night the library burned down. They told me Melany had moved. I asked where, but they wouldn’t say, or didn’t know. Said I’d know when I needed to. I don’t know what that is supposed to mean. Just have to wait and see I guess. Was hoping Melany would get in touch. She didn't look good the last time I saw her. Hope she is alright.