I don't know how or why I developed this fear or how this name came about or even how I came to experience the essence of this so-called "being".
Somehow, Sand Man had something to do with tomatoes.
Grammy's garden was located on a gentle hill, just above the old hen house.
I was deathly afraid of the garden (because of Sand Man).
Maybe it was the deep, rich red color of the tomatoes growing on the vines next to the old, dilapidated hen house that attracted him, or maybe the color was somehow connected to something sinister or dreadful that may have happened or would happen.
I remember that Sand Man would hide in a thicket a short distance away from Grammy's garden and watch, like a hawk, for anyone entering the garden, quickly making his appearance once he spied his unsuspecting victim and swooping in, looming ten feet tall over the unsuspecting child, grabbing him up and whisking him away, remnants of leftover tomato dropping from his little hand, its squishy innards spilling helplessly over the spot where he had just stood, an insidious and hideous sound of laughter as the monster sped higher and higher, savoring his newest little morsel as he greedily clutched his newest conquest.
Sand Man was always on watch for the unprepared, the unwary.
He would hunch down, watching quietly from the edge of the garden, his eyes narrowing to slits in gleeful anticipation, as he spied you and you (of course) being completely unaware that you were being spied upon as you happily chomped down on the sweet and salty morsel you held in your hands, the savory juices running wildly off the end of your chin.
You were in your own little world.
He would then rush in and snatch you up and make off with you to some place where you would never, ever, be found again.
I never ventured into the garden but would watch Grammy from a distance as I sat on a little stool while she tended to her garden, hoeing and humming, pulling weeds while the droopy heads of giant yellow sunflowers kept silent watch all in a row and towering, voluptuous hollyhocks of cream, purple and pink kept her company as they attracted hordes of honey bees and colorful hummingbirds.
Back then life was so much simpler.
Grammy had turned the inside of the old abandoned hen house into a little world of enchantment for her grand daughters.
She hung curtains with dainty petite yellow flowers and ruffled edges on the windows.
On the wall to the right she had moved in an old faded green bookcase where we could keep our books and trinkets.
In the middle of the room she placed a small round table and four chairs with a flower vase in the middle containing heavenly fragrant, pale pink cabbage roses.
Between the two windows she hung a faded picture of a young barefoot girl standing by a pond feeding several Toulouse Geese.
Old, well worn Teddy Bear with a brown satin ribbon around his neck and one eye missing sat in one chair and a lovely doll named Matilda with sad eyes and bristling yellow hair sat in another.
The summer breeze rustled the curtains and the outside smell of roses, honeysuckle and lilacs filled the air as the dim sunlight filtered through onto the four of us sumptuously dining on gingerbread cookies and pouring tea from an old and elegant sterling silver teapot into four exquisitely detailed teacups made of the finest bone china.
We'd pick up our teacups and hold our little pinkies out at right angles and shake our gossamer threads, donning an air of regalness, giggling and talking and dreaming of faraway places and what we would be when we grew up and wondered, in general, just what the world was all about.
As the day wore on the lowering sun cast curious shadows that crept steadily and resolutely upwards across the bookcase and up the walls.
We would watch them make their way across the inside of the hen house as we whiled away these precious moments contemplating just about anything.
We watched in amazement as the remaining drops of tea left in the bottom of our cups morphed into little diamonds, sparkling and dancing in the bottom of our cups as we turned them this way and that, the sun's rays happening to catch them just right.
We looked at one another in amazement, recognizing that this, indeed, was a very special moment.
A moment, a precious memory that would soon be gone, forever.
We reached out to one another and grasped hands, holding on tightly, in friendship and love.
Every so often we'd hear the sheep in the meadow as they moved around, munching on sweet grass.
Grampy had to be careful with the sheep as dogs would get in from time to time and run them to death, literally.
A special part of our day was visiting Major, Dad's horse.
He was so big and so majestic and we felt so tiny when we stood outside his barn stall, looking up at him, his head so very high above us.
He was at least seventeen hands high.
He would shake his head in greeting and whinny and look down at us with such wonderful warm dark brown eyes.
There was a giant virgin forest on the farm that we would venture forth into.
This was a most wondrous and mystical place, untouched, so beautiful, so dark so quiet.
We would walk up the hill from the hen house and past the garden into the forest, skipping down the pebbled path, singing and talking happily, stopping every so often to pick pink Lady Slippers, marveling at their strange beauty and then bending down to run our hands across the beds of soft, soft moss, laying down and looking up at the sky, the tall tall pines converging together at the very top forming a dense canopy that was almost impossible to see through to the blue sky peeking back at us.
The blanket of fragrant pine needles was thick under the trees, forming a dense carpet.
We would keep on the meandering path, not hearing any sound, no birds, no deer, no planes, no cars, nothing but a dense quiet.
This, truly, was a magical realm.
The long, meandering path eventually ended at the bottom of a small clearing and then continued further on where it disappeared into a deep and dark void of shadows.
I never went any further than this.
To the right was an enormous gaping mouth, a black pit, an entrance, a mysterious portal that I never dared enter.
Grampy always reassured us that there was nothing to fear, it was just an opening to another meadow.
One that was completely surrounded by tall trees, devoid of anything evil but full of sunlight and profuse blankets of wildflowers.
I never dared enter because I was afraid to.
Now I wish I had.
These are memories (diamonds) of a childhood long, long ago.
Full of wonder and wishes, hopes and dreams and coming to grips with scary things that go "bump" in the night.
Childhood never changes but will always beckon you, summon you and test you to see just what you're made of.
In some areas I must have passed the test.
In others, I was definitely found wanting.
It is important to understand that childhood (Beginning) is the path of the Fool (0) in Tarot.
The beginning of your sojourn, your journey here on earth.
You are 0 because you are neither here nor there; it is neither black nor white; it is neither positive or negative; it is neither good or evil; it is neither first or last.
Get it?
You are a babe in the woods, innocent and oblivious to the dangers, challenges, obstacles and lessons to be learned.
You are carefree, with no past and no future, darling and daring with no cares, no fears, no worries.
But, if you notice, you carry a backpack.
This backpack represents the lessons learned from previous incarnations so it's not like you've been dropped onto a planet with no previous experience.
You've also been provided with a faithful and loyal companion on your journey...a dog.
As you journey along your path in this lifetime and continue to grow in spirit and in wonder and learn from the lessons presently assigned to you, will blossom into who and what you are destined to be.
Diamonds are Forever.
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