My dear uncle John

By the time I stepped outside, the leaves were on fire. A look of horror had swept over my face as I stood in awe to witness the dry neighboring cornfield being engulfed in flames. As the fire traveled towards the fence where I stood, fear had gripped my throat before I could call on my uncle John. The smoke slowly started to sting my eyes, nose and throat. It was only when I started to cough that I found the will to start moving.

This was supposed to be my final year of school. I was instead homeschooled because of the global pandemic that had recently shaken the world. I had easily passed but wasn't ready for young adulthood as I had no real direction, despite having all of my schooling life to pick a career path. My family wasn't considered rich (at least by my standard), but we were comfortable to the point where I, unrealistically, didn't mind spending the rest of my life with my mother and father who would provide everything for me. My parents realized I was far too comfortable for my own good. They thought about my lack of ambition and direction for some time and decided to do something about it. A course of action was quickly decided upon between them (with little to no real input from me or consideration to my thoughts on the matter). The plan was set into motion and after a lengthy telephone conversation with uncle John and aunt Sophie, I was to switch places with my cousin (their son who is about my age) for a while. After we had taken the necessary precautions and tests to make sure we weren't carrying the pandemic, we hit the road. After exiting the city, I quickly got bored of all the beautiful mid-autumn scenery that the country had to offer.

We arrived at a small corn farm in Arkansas County. The drive was long and I was tired, but before anything, we settled in for a generous lunch prepared by my aunt and uncle. Shortly after, and much to my surprise, my father had asked my cousin to get his stuff ready and had declared that they were leaving. My uncle John calmly pulled dad aside where it seemed like they were having a private, but cordial, conversation. With the striking resemblance between the two brothers, watching the conversation was like paying witness to a man having a conversation with himself five years from now. Even though I couldn't hear anything, I pieced together that my uncle was trying to convince dad to stay the night. This was to no avail as my dad knew that the house was small and that my uncle and aunt would probably give up their bedroom and sleep in the living room just to accommodate mum and dad. The sun was still up when dad drove off. The trip there had taken its toll on me and I was so tired that I went to bed almost immediately after my parents had left.

Within the next week, I found myself doing more chores and spending a lot less time on my phone and laptop. I didn't mind being there as I always liked spending time with uncle John who was this forever positive person, no matter what challenge stood ahead and what he has been through in the past. He gave me some insight into how the farm operated. The farm usually employed about six seasonal workers. The main source of income was from supplying corn to restaurants and diners within the states of Arkansas, Texas and Louisiana. To a lesser extent, the farm also saw revenue in supplying corn to be used to feed livestock such as swine and poultry. Unfortunately, the farm hadn't been making enough due to the outbreak and the following closing down of establishments that did business with uncle John. This economic slow down had even cause the neighboring cornfield owners to sell their property for financial reasons. When uncle John told me about these difficulties, the pained look on his face was that of a stranger, a completely foreign man that I'd never seen before and I felt his pain, though he never wore that look for long.

The hard times had an impact on everyone, including my uncle, aunt and their humble farm. The rapid decline in demand for his crops meant that what was harvested in September had sat uselessly in silos on the property. This also meant that he couldn't afford new equipment or repair any broken equipment he currently had, meaning he could fall behind on production for next season. Times were tough, but my aunt and uncle still saw everyday with a positive mindset and it seemed as though they would pull through after all. This was until that faithful day.

This region was noticeably more arid this year than previously. This was probably a deciding factor in the formation of the encroaching fire that stood before me. I came to my senses and started to move when I heard my uncle shouting, "Get back Richard", with serious panic in his voice. I had never seen my uncle in such a state of urgency (nor has he ever called me Richard, preferring Dick instead) as I ran following him into the kitchen where we met up with aunt Sophie. While aunt Sophie called the Fire Department, uncle John instructed me to go around back and start his Ford pickup truck and aunt Sophie's minivan while he quickly packed up valuables and necessities. With the fire closing in on the farm, and with the secondary threat of the smoke that had crept in, we hastily sprung into action.

With the combined effort of all three of us, we untidily packed what we could in the two vehicles. Aunt Sophie drove off first in the minivan. I admired how composed both of them were during this whole event as I hopped in the Ford with uncle John. We took off closely following aunt Sophie. As we drove, uncle John firstly made sure that I was alright (all things considered), before we both fell into silence, both deep in thought. I don't know much about farming, but I do know a little about wildfires. Low intensity fires have long been used by certain farmers to help with soil fertilization and vegetation control. This was different. This seemed like a high intensity fire which had the potential to rob the soil of nutrients like nitrogen and ravage fertile land by enhancing soil erosion. "Uncle John would still recover despite all this, right?", I internally questioned.

That's when I turned to uncle John and saw a tense look on his face as he refused to look back or at any of his mirrors. For the first time ever, I could see doubt in his eyes. For the first time ever, uncle John had a lost look on his face. I felt an uneasy sensation in my stomach as I had never seen my dear uncle like this before. That's when it hit me. "He knows how to work the land no matter what, but what if he's more worried about the machinery and buildings that he may not be able to replace?" My mind further questioned, "I know he's been hit financially, what if he defaulted on insurance payments, what if uncle John can't recover from this?" I found myself facing forward and adopting a look similar to my uncle's as we drove off.

The end.