Life With Granny 16: In Your Own Backyard by Beth Goodman

Lately, the world has weighed a bit heavy on my shoulders. It's not because of anything specific, just one of life's many rough patches. It's at times like these that I long for Home the most. Mind you, I've lived in the same apartment for five years, which is actually a record breaker in my adult life, but it's not Home. My Home will always be the little house Granny and I shared, and sometimes I miss it as much as I miss her.

All God's children have to grow up sometime, and leaving behind the home of your youth is a very common experience. But I must admit, I am very envious of folks who can still return to their childhood haunts to visit now and again.

"Home" is what it's called in the childhood games. That safe spot where you cannot be caught or targeted or pursued. The place you always race to when you need a break, a breather, a respite from the game. The starting-over point. An opportunity to recharge and regroup. Home.

When I was little, and had bad days that kept my sprits low, Granny would sing a special song to me. Looking at it now, I know that it is very racist in nature, but that was never part of the song when Granny sang it. It was simply a song from her own childhood that called me safely home.

Chorus from: STAY IN YOUR OWN BACKYARD (Music by: Lyn Udall / Lyrics by: Karl Kennett) 1899

Now honey, you stay in your own back yard,
Don't mind what the white child do;
What do you think they're gonna give
A black little child like you?
So stay on this side of the high board fence
And honey don't cry so hard.
Go out and a play, just as much as you please,
But stay in your own back yard.

There's much more to the song than the chorus, but that was all Granny ever sang to me, and it always reminded me of my haven in my own back yard. In my own back yard I could be a girl who was also a knight in shining armor. In my own backyard I could lay in the grass as long as I liked and watch for pictures in the clouds. In my own back yard I didn't have to jockey for position or wait my turn, or lead or follow. In my own back yard I could just be, until I was ready to play in the world again.

And so, even now, when the world gets the best of me I retreat to my own back yard. I wish it was a physical place I could visit now and again, to take comfort in the familiar and beloved surroundings -- but it's not, and it never will be. I have to learn to carry my own back yard with me, and I have to remind myself that sometimes it is not only okay to hide there, but it is also necessary -- to rest, and regroup, before I face the world again.

So my advice to one and all who face the trials and tribulations of this life is, simply, sometimes you have to stay in your own backyard. Go out and play just as much as you please, but stay in your own back yard. The sun will shine again, and the voices of other children will beckon, and you can return to the game -- and who knows, maybe this time the game will even be in your own back yard.