Don't Trash Your Treasures
by Darleen Bailey Beard

Sometimes we get so busy in life that we hardly have time to turn around and catch our breath.  That’s when it’s easy to trash our treasures.  But as writers we need to remember our treasures and draw strength from them, for it’s these very treasures—moments when we feel most alive—that make our lives worth living and our writing worth reading. Let me share with you one of my treasures.

In 1974, when I was a long, lanky 13-year-old, we moved from a nice, big “Leave it to Beaver” neighborhood in Pennsylvania, where I had tons of friends and a beautiful modern school to what felt like the absolute ends of the earth.  There was no neighborhood, just a house and some cedar trees.  And my new school looked like an old decrepit armory with barred windows and I didn’t know a single person.

In Pennsylvania, my bus stop was right across the street from my house and there were at least a dozen kids to talk to while waiting for the bus.  But in Oklahoma, my bus stop was about one-half mile away.  Uphill.   On a gravel road.  With no one  there but cows.

In the mornings, this usually didn’t pose any problems because my mom would drop me off at school on the way to her new job at the local bank.  But when school let out at three o’clock, I was on my own, which meant this city-girl-turned-country-girl had to walk a half mile home no matter if it was raining, snowing, hailing, or hot as the dickens.  And I soon learned that Oklahoma weather was hot—very hot.

On my right-hand side was an empty field where a farmer had planted winter wheat.  Each day as I walked home, I watched the development of that wheat.  First, I saw earthy rows where the tractor had tilled up the red soil and planted seeds. (How odd that Oklahoma soil was red and not black like Pennsylvania’s!)  Then, I saw little green sprouts and beautiful green grass.  I was so tempted to touch it, to run through it, but at 13, how could I?  What if someone drove by and actually saw me?       

Day by day, the field looked more and more inviting.  Each day the wheat called to me, wooed me, but being the new kid on the block (or rather, the new kid on a gravel road in the middle of nowhere) I didn’t want to take any chances of doing anything to draw attention to myself.

Then, one glorious spring-like day, the temptation became too great and I couldn’t resist any longer.  I had to get into that field. I quickly looked over my shoulders,  put down my books, and kicked off my moccasins.  And then I did it. 

I leaped into the barefoot softness of that knee-deep waving wheat. Ohhh. It felt so good and smelled so fresh. Then, like a caged animal set free, I ran flailing and stomping, shouting and yahooing.  With outstretched arms I soared like an eagle, first this way, then that way, up and down the rows of wheat, here and there and everywhere, twirling and spinning myself into a wonderful, powerful, freedom-filled frenzy.

Too dizzy to stand, I flopped onto a fresh spot, spread-eagle, engulfed in a sea of greenness, as my heart beat wildly and my hair blew in the breeze.  How soft and cool the wheat felt between my toes and fingers. I lie there for what seemed like hours watching clouds roll, birds fly, listening to the sound of my own heart. 

I had no idea then that I was creating a treasure which would last a lifetime.  A treasure which is always there for me, empowering me to listen to that still, soft voice, urging me to take risks, no matter how absurd, no matter who is looking or what age I happen to be.  So that’s one of my life’s treasures.  Now, what about you?  When life keeps you so busy that you hardly have time to turn around, what moments of total, absolute aliveness do you treasure?   

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Darleen Bailey Beard is the award-winning author of five books for children including two picture books, a chapter book, and two novels published by Farrar Straus Giroux and Simon & Schuster.  Her newest chapter book, Annie Glover is NOT a Tree Lover, will be released in fall 2009 by FSG.  She’s always on the lookout for those spontaneous little treasures that let her know she’s alive and well!

www.darleenbaileybeard.com