Eden, Ohio

Chapter One Afine drifting line separated the ground from sky. The ground was dark with life and purpose, sky clear glass, no clouds on the horizon or variations of color, pure blue spanned out into forever. Dark earth and pure blue spanning out into forever called forth life, moving creatures with warm blood beneath the skin, flying creatures with gilded wings, great whales and small fish swimming through unpolluted waters. All of it was blessed to multiply.Generations and generations later a small part of green things and dark earth was still thriving. Trees were full figured and lush, leaves so healthy bright skin slick when runaway slaves first settled in a large grassy clearing and named their piece of the world Eden. Runaway slaves made a home out of earth waiting to be tilled and forests waiting to be cut down and animals waiting to be hunted and fish in the lake waiting to be caught. They built homes and communities, gave birth to children, watched dreams of safety and plenty gather substance, not float beneath the conscience like shadows. There were no white people at all, just descendants of slaves with glowing dark skin. History written down in books for public school children skipped over that small part of the world where magic was still possible and beauty not out of the ordinary. Skipped over Eden. In the early 1980s, grass ankle- to knee-high in Eden, in some places trampled by childrenis feet and other places cut down by roaring and greedy lawn mowers. Only the really stubborn persisted in mowing grass, dragging huge heavy equipment in summer heat to the edge of town, cutting at wildness that only grew back quick, strong, and lush. Green things growing a perfect home for birds in trees hidden by foliage; squirrels and possums and badgers and mice running freely, carelessly across the green grass floor.People in Eden used to waking up, looking outside their windows and seeing trees reaching for sky during summer, grass thick and soft like a vain womanis hair, earth rich and sweet like devil foodis cake or just-baked bread. The highway leading to town cut a man-made path through the green on the east and west, the only break in nature, and nature constantly threatened to push up concrete and guard rails, leave nothing but weeds and wildflowers. Eden tucked away, no oneis destination, no touristis town with sights and four-star restaurants and crowded streets. Eden a place to come from, a place in the blood of people, hidden like jewels or lepers, a place familiar and loved and lived in or not known at all.Cities like New York and Philadelphia and Chicago had founding fathers and old streets and homes. Eden was founded by a woman, never written about, everything old and rarely changing. The children left for college and careers and sweet-tongued men or sly smiling women, but they came back with husbands and wives and babies. The children of Eden had a rhyme that they sang jumping rope, skipping hopscotch, playing tag: On this land I was born Free not a slave On this land I will die Singing free to my grave There were no words written down in history books, but anyone born in Eden or moved to Eden by husbands and wives who couldnit sleep at night in any other city, in any other small town without dreaming about the lush green surrounding Eden and full-figured trees reaching for blue skies, knew Edenis story by heart. Husbands and wives who fell from sleep with weeping hearts knew the story passed from mother to daughter and father to son.There were twelve first families in the year 1860, skin brown and blue black and deep red and high yellow. They walked fast through thorny underbrush with only the stars to guide, the moon to give light. Branches scratched at skin, left tender bloodred welts, bare feet swollen and bruised, soles hard and callused. Bare feet the slightest cushion from groJohnson, Shawne is the author of 'Eden, Ohio' with ISBN 9780525948100 and ISBN 0525948104.