the walk

A dilapidated barn, a creek and a corn field. My imaginary friend and I had a great time exploring on our walk today.

Wanting company this morning but with no one to be found, I just pretended. It wasn’t as good as the real thing of course, but hey, what’s a guy to do? My friend may not say much—in truth, nothing—but we still had a blast.

I had walked down my street a million times before, but this time decided to check out the creek running through the corn field. It was absolutely wonderful. We found a log right next to the water and sat down. A little cold on the backside, but well worth it.

And there we sat, me and my imaginary friend. Listening to the water. Admiring the ice sculptures all around us. And checking out the animal tracks leading up to and away from the water.

Seven years of living in this area and I had never had the nerve to explore this area before. But with the land now for sale, it seemed like a good idea. If someone decided to challenge me, I had  my story down pat: “I’m a potential buyer and checking things out. I may not look like I can afford a piece of property this size, but I actually have millions.”

Fortunately I was never challenged. Thus, I never had to repent for telling a fib.

My friend wanted to walk in the corn field, so we did. Even though it was covered with ice, it was surprisingly easy to walk on. For some reason my friend really enjoyed that part of our exploration more than everything else. Something about bringing back childhood memories…

The horizon in every direction seemed miles and miles away. And the sun’s reflection on the ice-covered ground filled our eyes with the glory of our great God’s creation. Who would have thought that a simple corn field could provide such a spiritual high?

Even though my friend was reluctant, we decided to explore an old barn at one end of the field. The roof looked like it would collapse at any moment and the floor (such as it was) was filled with gigantic holes, but in we went.

We wondered how many people had sat in the overturned and rust-covered chair in the corner. And even though we were both curious to see if anything was in the ratty-looking chest of drawers against the far wall, neither of us had the nerve to look inside. Who knows what yucky stuff  lurks inside.

Once outside, my friend seemed more at ease as we strolled leisurely at the edge of the corn field where it butts up against the creek. If we had brought a camera, we’d probably still be there. It was a photographer’s delight.

But, alas, we finally decided it was time to head back. My friend offered me a piece of chocolate for the long walk home, but when I saw it had nuts, I politely declined. Don’t much like them. A smile told me that was just fine, because then my friend wouldn’t have to share.

While a piece of chocolate (sans nuts) would have hit the spot, I didn’t let the disappointment spoil the experience. It had been one of the more memorable walks in quite some time.

A dilapidated barn, a creek and a corn field. And all on my own street. Sweet.

Gee…I wonder where my imaginary friend and I are going tomorrow morning?

But this time—please—no nuts.

“He says to the snow, 'Fall on the earth.'”1

1  Job 37:6