Under the Big Oak Tree
By Emily A. Glisson


'Hard to believe there's chaos in the world,'� scribbled the tiny delicate hands of a precocious woman into a dusty old diary. 'Everything is so quiet'�so simple on the farm.'�

Sarah stopped and pondered the words before her. The aged and yellow stained pages cracked as she turned them. It was a memorable path of adolescence embraced with joy and angst, chronicled in 42 pages of her young life. She figured she would pick up from where she left off; a good 25 years later. And then'�she melted back into that bright eyed 15 year old girl she once was; a girl who somehow got lost in the pages of an antique memoir.

Sarah placed her pencil down and skimmed through the mid-section of her book. The numbers danced in front of her; 21, 22, 24, 27. And there it was, page 28, like an old friend coming home to greet her. In black ink, the name 'Clayton Ross'� jumped right off the page and into her heart, and she welcomed his name with a warm hug. Her hands clung to her chest. She could feel her heart pounding, and she could sense her smile stretching wider and wider across her pale face. Clipped in the upper right hand corner of the page was a small red heart cut from trace paper, 'To Sarah - From Clayton, with all my love.'� Her hands gently stroked the tiny heart, rubbing her fingers along its edges, surprised that it hadn't torn after all these years. She was just a simple girl, born and raised on her daddy's farm. One day, she would die on that same farm. It had become her inheritance after the loss of her parents several years earlier. The farm was her life.

As she stroked the tiny heart, she thought about her first kiss. She remembered it was under the big Oak tree at Old Man Keeter's Farm, just up the road from where she lived. One cool summer's night, Clayton took her by the hand and drug her up there, under that majestic tree. Its great big arms shaded them from the rest of the world; protecting their sacred first kiss. Right next to that tree was Keeter's 'No Trespassing'� sign. And those darn watch dogs! It was a good thing Clayton was athletic. He just tossed her over his left shoulder and ran like the wind. She chuckled quietly to herself, thinking about night. Sarah wished she could close her eyes once more and feel the wind embrace her as his hands gently stroked the sides of her cheek. Even now, she could feel his breath; she could smell the flannel and musk on his rough skin. And if she remembered hard enough, she could see the sparkle in his eye every time he looked into hers. She was 15 again.

One day, Clayton picked up a guitar and never put it down again. A talent scout called him after hearing him perform at a nearby stock show and rodeo. Three Greyhound buses later, he would hang his hat in Nashville for good. Sarah stayed behind on the farm, hoping he would come back for her; secretly wishing he would whisk her off into the sunset. She would sit on her front porch with her momma, waiting to see if his shadow would somehow creep up on her. But not even his shadow came to greet her.

'Sarah Ann,'� her momma would say. 'You best wipe that frown off your face. Clayton Ross is a city boy now...and it ain't safe in the city. You're better off here'�where you belong.'� Sarah's momma was right. Clayton had moved on. He had seen the world too. Occasionally, she would get a postcard from places like New York City, Miami or even Cancun, but several years had passed and soon the correspondence stopped. Time seemed to erase the fame of Clayton Ross. Radio stations stopped playing his songs and eventually his music died along with his memory. But Clayton lived on in Sarah's heart.

She carefully unclipped the tiny red heart and held it close to her. She swore she could still smell the flannel and musk on it. She placed it on the table and began to read page 28.

'Today I met the man I'm going to marry.'�

Sarah smiled. 'My first love,'� she whispered to herself.

'He ran right into me. He swung open that door and stepped right on my toe. It hurt too. But I didn't care. One look was worth 1,000 bandages.'�

Sarah chuckled to herself, as she remembered that destined accident one spring afternoon.

'And would you believe that he carried me to the school nurse? My poor toe was bleeding a river, and he scooped me right up into his arms! I love Clayton Ross'�and one day, I'm going to marry him.'�

As Sarah closed her eyes, a look of despair fell like a blanket over her face. The 15 year old that once was had now vanished. She tore page 28 out of the book and abruptly closed it, placing the tiny red heart in her pocket. Sarah stood and walked towards her dusty window pane, gazing out into a candlelit sky just barely touching the surface of rolling hills along her daddy's farm land.

She threw her pink crocheted sweater over her shoulders and walked outside into the country dusk. The fresh breeze vibrated through the pores of her skin, and she felt alive. Sarah inhaled life and exhaled grief as she thought about her first love. Up the road from her farm house was a small grave yard where several of her ancestors laid to rest, along with others who had lived and died in that small town.

Sarah walked slowly down the bare open road, towards the grave yard. The sun was setting fast. She could hear echoes of crickets and owls harmonizing a sweet melody around her.

As she drew closer to the gravesite, her attention was drawn to that same Oak tree. There it stood, so prominently; so grandiose. Old man Keeter's farm was now for sale. The property seemed so desolate; aged and worn from years passed. Etched delicately in that infamous tree were the initials C & S. Sarah smiled as she ran her fingers across the letters, remembering that night and wondering how time could pass so quickly.

It was nearly dark now. Sarah pulled a small flashlight out of her pocket and approached the grave site. She could see her ancestor's tombstones side by side in the distance, but it was the tombstone in front of her that brought her to her knees. Sarah pulled the tiny red heart out of her pocket and unfolded page 28, carefully placing them on the ground in front of a modest sized tombstone. She pointed her flashlight towards the engraved wording'�

Clayton Michael Ross, beloved son and friend. Rest in peace.

Clayton had become nothing more than a faint memory. The man, who once poured his sorrows into his music, would soon pour those same sorrows into a bottle of Jack Daniel's. Drinking became his therapy; sadness became his only friend. One night he decided to turn his back on Nashville for good and return home to his family; home to Sarah. It had been years since anyone had seen Clayton. He was a voice on the airwaves; a picture in the magazines, but even that had evaporated into thin air. So Clayton Ross was finally coming home.

But he never made it back to the farm. The newspapers said it was one of the ugliest car accidents they had seen in years.

Sarah pondered the words she had written earlier that day. 'Hard to believe there's chaos in the world. Everything is so quiet'�so simple on the farm.'� She had never actually seen chaos; only read about it in the newspapers. There was a whole other world outside the farm filled with problems and despair, but she was simply a spectator...an outsider looking in. The minute Clayton got on that Greyhound bus, Sarah became a spectator like everyone else on the farm. She often wondered what life would have been like in the big city; what life would have been like with Clayton.

Sarah stood and made her way back to the farm house. She passed the Oak tree once more, stopped and blew a gentle kiss into the air. 'Maybe the wind will catch my kiss and carry it up to heaven for you,'� she whispered. And soon the breeze began to pick up. The leaves from the Oak tree rustled and fell on her shoulders. She looked up into the big country night sky and saw a shooting star gliding peacefully through the universe. Sarah smiled, and disappeared into the thick of the night.

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