Timeless
Posted: Thu Aug 22, 2024 3:57 pm
1936, THE OKLAHOMA PANHANDLE
Roland Fisher walked slowly back from town, pulling his mule alongside him. A couple sacks holding meager groceries were slung over the animal's back. He had hoped to get more but there just wasn't enough money. Not to mention, even if he had more money there likely wasn't enough food to purchase anyhow. There wasn't any water, which meant there weren't any crops. No grain for bread. No vegetables for stew. And certainly no grass to feed any cattle. No, this part of the world seemed to be more and more barren everyday.
His Mama told him stories about what this land had looked like 16 years ago when he was born. Obviously, Roland couldn't remember that. He'd had to take her word for how nice their little farm had been back then. His Pa never talked about that. In fact, he never really talked at all. When he did, it was usually out of frustration or anger. In fact, Roland wasn't looking forward to getting home with the meager groceries he had purchased. The money they had given him was gone and he had only managed to get half of what they had expected. Pa would be angry.
He wiped the dust from his eyes and stopped dead in his tracks. Ahead of him was a man, just standing in the middle of the road looking back at Roland. No one moved for a long while but eventually the boy stepped forward, knowing full well he had to continue on the path to get home. The newcomer waited until he was closer before he spoke, "Well hello, young man. How goes it?"
Roland noticed the man was white, not exactly the type of person a black teenage boy wanted to run into out in the middle of nowhere, "I'm fine, sir. Thank you."
He smiled at Roland and pulled out a water pouch, taking a long drink. He looked the boy up and down and offered the pouch to him, "Awful hot and dry out here? Would you care for a drink?"
Roland didn't move at first. He wasn't sure what to do. However, his water supply had run out miles ago and he was thirsty. He cautiously reached his hand out and took the pouch from the stranger. As he drank the man continued to speak, "My name is Nate. And you're Roland."
Roland almost choked on the water, "You know my name?"
Nate smiled, "I know a great deal more than your name, Roland. In fact, I'm willing to bet I know more about you than even you do."
Roland didn't like this, not at all. He wanted to get home and get away from this crazy white man. As he tried to pass, Nate put his hand out and gestured for Roland to wait, "I'm not your enemy. I know you and your family are struggling, like most folks right now. I can help. All I need from you is a bit of time. For a conversation."
Roland looked Nate in the eyes, "A conversation about what?"
"Your future, dear boy. Your future."
Roland Fisher walked slowly back from town, pulling his mule alongside him. A couple sacks holding meager groceries were slung over the animal's back. He had hoped to get more but there just wasn't enough money. Not to mention, even if he had more money there likely wasn't enough food to purchase anyhow. There wasn't any water, which meant there weren't any crops. No grain for bread. No vegetables for stew. And certainly no grass to feed any cattle. No, this part of the world seemed to be more and more barren everyday.
His Mama told him stories about what this land had looked like 16 years ago when he was born. Obviously, Roland couldn't remember that. He'd had to take her word for how nice their little farm had been back then. His Pa never talked about that. In fact, he never really talked at all. When he did, it was usually out of frustration or anger. In fact, Roland wasn't looking forward to getting home with the meager groceries he had purchased. The money they had given him was gone and he had only managed to get half of what they had expected. Pa would be angry.
He wiped the dust from his eyes and stopped dead in his tracks. Ahead of him was a man, just standing in the middle of the road looking back at Roland. No one moved for a long while but eventually the boy stepped forward, knowing full well he had to continue on the path to get home. The newcomer waited until he was closer before he spoke, "Well hello, young man. How goes it?"
Roland noticed the man was white, not exactly the type of person a black teenage boy wanted to run into out in the middle of nowhere, "I'm fine, sir. Thank you."
He smiled at Roland and pulled out a water pouch, taking a long drink. He looked the boy up and down and offered the pouch to him, "Awful hot and dry out here? Would you care for a drink?"
Roland didn't move at first. He wasn't sure what to do. However, his water supply had run out miles ago and he was thirsty. He cautiously reached his hand out and took the pouch from the stranger. As he drank the man continued to speak, "My name is Nate. And you're Roland."
Roland almost choked on the water, "You know my name?"
Nate smiled, "I know a great deal more than your name, Roland. In fact, I'm willing to bet I know more about you than even you do."
Roland didn't like this, not at all. He wanted to get home and get away from this crazy white man. As he tried to pass, Nate put his hand out and gestured for Roland to wait, "I'm not your enemy. I know you and your family are struggling, like most folks right now. I can help. All I need from you is a bit of time. For a conversation."
Roland looked Nate in the eyes, "A conversation about what?"
"Your future, dear boy. Your future."