Personal Narrative: Growing Up In A Small Country

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Growing up on a farm is different in many ways to growing up in the city. On a farm in the middle of nowhere so to say you don’t have close neighbors nor are you able to walk out your backdoor down the street and spend the afternoon with your friends. I went to a small country school that was full of kids just like me, we all got up and done chores before school and when we got home we finished up what needed to be done. Summers were full of hard work and that is what molded us into the adults that we are now however that meant that for the couple months that school was out we didn’t get to talk to or hang out with most of our friends. All of my sisters are a lot older than me and by the time I was five they were all out of our parents’ house; …show more content…

When we took of exploring the only rule we had was we were not to cross any fences, other than the one from the field our dads were in into the one we were exploring. We didn’t understand then why we couldn’t cross anymore fences but looking back we understand now that it was for our own safety; we didn’t know then what fields we were allowed to be in and which ones were the neighbors fields, we didn’t know if there were any cattle in those fields that might charge us and if we crossed fences we might not have been able to find our way back where we needed to be. We would walk through the fields through the woods and always seemed to find something interesting, once we found a spring that ran through the woods it was beautiful it ran down through some rocks that formed a waterfall, I remember once we found it that was where we went every summer while our dads cut, racked and baled the hay. I don’t know if we were not allowed to run the tractors at this time because we were young and not tall enough to reach the pedals or if it was because our dads wanted us to be able to get out and be kids but whatever the case was we were able to enjoy the landscape in multiple …show more content…

You know a couple little girls are not going to be able to keep up with grown men when it comes to bucking bales or stacking them and even though we could not reach the pedals of the truck either we could drive. Okay so we did not actually drive, dad would put the farm truck in first gear slide out the door and we would steer through the hay bales. We couldn’t reach the gas or the break and in order to be able to see out of the window we would have to set on our knees but that did not stop us. We were never allowed to drive anywhere other than the hayfield but this gave us lots of practice, we had to make sure that we were between the rows of hay and didn’t hit of the bales. When they got the truck full dad would slide back in and take over driving us to the barn to unload the hay and then we would go back to the field and start off where we had just left. Even though driving through the field was a lot of fun the stop on our way home was always even better; after a long hot day in the field we always got to stop for a soda and candy bar or sometimes even ice

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