The Farmhouse

The farmhouse feels like a haunted house in scary movies. I am seven years old, and I am taking my first adventure out to this mysterious farmhouse in Calhoun County. The screen door slams behind me as I walk in. The brown, hardwood floor creaks like an old person’s bones with every step that I take. The wooden countertop seems to be decaying before my very eyes. As I sit in the giant, dark red chair in the living room, dust floats around my entire body. The strong taste of mothballs forces me to cough so much that it feels like my lungs are about to pop out. There is a wooden game of chess sitting beside the large windows peering out to the Mississippi River. The pieces themselves are falling apart, so I have to cradle each piece delicately whenever I make a move. A gigantic buffalo head hangs on the wall in the dining room and peers over our food at every meal. The spookiest part of the farmhouse by far is the basement. The stairs are so narrow that I feel as if I am going to trip and tumble three times before crashing into the wooden bookcase below. Every time I walk downstairs, the musty smell of decade old blankets shoves its way into my nostrils. It appears to be the perfect area for my brothers and me to sleep because there are three sets of bunk beds and two queen-sized beds. There is also a small, fake tree with a wide trunk emerging from the ground through the ceiling. Nevertheless, the horrid smell and eeriness of the basement deters me from ever sleeping down there.  

Ten years later, I am seventeen years old, and I continue to take trips out to the farmhouse. Ever since the new renovations, the farmhouse is an entirely different place. It is the tangible representation of tranquility. The upgraded, brown, hardwood floor feels stable underneath my feet. Modern, tall chairs made with white leather and silver metal surround the smooth, gray countertop in the kitchen. A new, leather couch in the living room invites my family and me to sit and watch Cardinal baseball. Outside the large windows at the back wall of the house, there is the sparkling, clear blue pool water with dried up, crunchy plants surrounding the edges. On the left of the pool by deep end, there is a five-foot tall, gray rock to jump off of and plunge into the water. In the summertime, the entrance of the pool is blockaded by the sea of bees waiting to prance onto my skin. In the wintertime, the evergreen tree-colored tarp prevents anyone from entering. Instead of swimming in the winter, the two John Deere Gators in the garage beg to be driven around the cornfields. The drive around the farm shows off the scenic views of the Mississippi River and the acres of land filled with wildlife. The serenity of the farm takes away all the stress and chaos that I feel in my regular routine back home.   

The farmhouse has always been the same place. It has always been the brown house on top of a steep hill looking over the Mississippi River and acres of cornfields. Overtime, the farmhouse gained a new appearance along with a new sense. Although it has the same elements that it had ten years ago, I experience an entirely new feeling whenever I adventure out to Calhoun County.