Imagination is a wonderful thing. With imagination, you can see things that really aren’t there. With imagination this morning, I can take a trip of about a hundred miles and a hundred years and, there I am at Etta Bend, my mother’s childhood home.
I can see the farm as it was a century ago. Maybe you can see it too, if I tell you about it. There’s the house, of course, just up from the road, on the other side of those big, rock steps. The barn is across the road and between barn and house, is the spring house.
You wouldn’t believe it now, but under the overgrowth of sprouts and winter grass and weeds, a spring of fresh water struggles up through the rocks. It was vital to the Latty family, the family who owned the farm a century ago.
There’s hardly a trace of the home place now, and, each year, there are fewer and fewer people who remember it was there. But, I remember. And, I remember the family who called it home. I can see it all quite clearly. Can you? I’m grateful for that intangible gift called imagination.
Alice, Georgia, Susie Latty
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