Down a Dirt Road


Down a dirt road is where most of my life takes place. I’m not the kind of girl that society expects. I don’t like shopping or shoes. It doesn’t take me two hours to get ready in the morning, and I don’t dream of having that huge closet with tons of dresses and fancy clothes. I don’t fantasize in driving that bold red Mustang. Instead I drive an old beat up Chevy. I wear old worn out blue jeans and t-shirts every day. And I walk around in my muddy old work boots. Even though this kind of life might be frowned upon by the majority of society, I love it, and there’s no other way I’d rather live my life.

I live down a long dirt road where we have our small farm with some cattle. When you first pull into my driveway, you will see our old John Deere 50. We have a beat up pole shed where we store our hay. This is where I end up spending most of my days during the summer stacking and throwing bales. Over on the south end, we have our barn. There is no place I’d rather spend my time than in this beautiful barn. With its peeling red paint and warping sides, it is still the most beautiful barn that makes up the perfect scenery out here.

My name is Molly Warford. Around here, no one else has a name like that. There is only one Warford family, and I am proud to be a part of it. My life revolves around my family and our small farm. Warford farm is well known around here because in a small town, all the farmers know each other and are always helping each other out. Most of the people in this town have farms, so we all know each other pretty well. Most of the farmers are getting to the point where it’s too much for them to be working all the time, so my father says that by the time I graduate from college I will be able to take over one of the farms and keep the tradition in the family. Don’t get me wrong, I do love the farm style life, but I’ve lived this way my whole life. Waking up every morning at 5 to milk and feed the cows, going to school for seven hours a day, and coming right back home to milk and feed the cows again. Every day it’s the same thing, just on a new day. Although I love this more than anything, maybe I want to try something new.

I have never really liked going to school because our town of Hayside is too small to have its own school, so all us farm kids go to school in Northdale. None of us really fit in there. All the girls drive brand new cars and the guys all wear their new Nikes. We come to school with our old trucks and wear t-shirts, jeans, and work boots. We’re all so different from them, and they don’t really like us. Some of them are constantly reminding us of how they’re so much better than us just because they have more money or they have nicer things. But the Hayside kids just shake it off because we know what truly makes you the person you are.

As you can probably tell, my life isn’t too extraordinary. Nothing out of the ordinary ever happens in this barn and I’m pretty convinced that it will stay that way. I just come in every morning and milk all 16 of the cows and then carry feed pails and pitch forks full of hay for them all. The biggest thing to happen here is when we sell one or two of them and then we go buy new ones. That’s always a big day. But my favorite thing is when a bunch of us from Hayside and some other towns around here get together and have a bonfire. As boring as it sounds, that’s how I’ve made most of my friends. When nothing exciting naturally happens, you have to make exciting things happen.

The days went on and we all went on living our lives as we had for many years. Nothing new ever happening. But just when I thought life couldn’t get more boring, it was turned upside down.
It started out as a normal Wednesday morning. Milking cows and then heading to school. Nothing exciting happened at school, just the same as every other day. But when I turned down our drive way, all I could see was smoke and vibrant red and orange flames. I drove my truck as fast as I could to get to it and then rushed out and ran over to the barn. It was collapsing in flames. There was no way I could save it or anything inside of it. So I ran to the house to find my mom and brother. They usually were sitting at the kitchen table when I got home, but they were nowhere to be found. In a panic, I rushed outside and started screaming their names but the fire was too loud to hear if there was a response. I had no idea what to do or who to even call. I figured I could call the fire department, but by the time they got all the way out here the whole barn would be vanished. I called my mom’s cell phone and it rang and rang but then went to voicemail. My last option was to call my dad and when he answered his phone the only thing that I could force out of my mouth were screams. He kept asking me what was wrong and all I could scream was “Mom, Dustin, Barn, Fire!” He was almost home and when he pulled in the drive way he fell to his knees out of his truck and wept like I’ve never seen. He was watching his whole life burn to the ground. His farm, his family, his past and future just burning to pieces.

One of our neighbors about seven or eight miles down the road saw the flames and called the fire department and as they arrived, all my dad and I could do was cry. We just lost everything we had spent our lives working for. We lost the rest of our family. We lost all we had. The firemen told us there was nothing they could do until the barn fell. I stood and watched my life be burned and ruined. Every flame I saw, my heart broke a little bit more.

After about 45 minutes, the barn finally used its last piece of strength and it fell to the ground. I stared as the fire fighters put out the remaining flames and as some ventured into the barn. I watched them move around and search for the other half of my family. They tore apart everything left of that beautiful barn. They broke down all the walls where we kept the pictures of our favorite cows. They started to haul things out of the barn, and with each thing I saw, it got harder and harder to control my tears. Finally after half the barn had been cleared out, one of the men came out with a small black bag. I knew what that meant and that’s what set me off. I couldn’t control my emotions anymore. When I saw them walk out of the barn with a larger black bag I knew I was done being the strong girl I always was. I couldn’t help but cry.

About two months had passed and my father and I still never found out the cause of that fire. All we knew was that we only had each other and for that we were thankful. We may not have lost our house and all of the things in it, but we lost what’s most important. We lost what made our lives complete. I used to think that having all the new “stuff” would make my life better. Now I realize that the things that make life better are the things that can’t be bought, but the things that come naturally in life.