I was telling Mr. FixIt on the way home yesterday…when I get to stay a couple of days at the farm, I feel like I’ve had a week’s vacation. It’s not like I went out there and put my feet up for two days. There was mowing to be done. Cooking, cleaning, and laundry. But there’s something about that place that renews my energy. It’s magical. 

When I awoke yesterday morning, I was rested and refreshed. I achieve a deeper sleep at the farm. The bed is smaller. It’s up against the wall and, since Mr. FixIt’s strokes, I get the inside up against the wall. And I get the window at my feet. The night air in that holler gets pretty cool so I throw another blanket on instead of closing that window. I crave fresh air. I sleep with the window open year ‘round. Yeah…you should have been a fly on the wall when we had THAT discussion. 

We had a really hard rain during the night while we were at the farm. The noise is deafening on that old tin roof. And it’s a symphony to my soul. As the rain subsides, the water continues to drip from the top roof to the porch roof and the plink, plink, plink is a song I’ve listened to since I was a baby. There’s truly nothing like it.

The first night we were there, my cousin and his wife came over to share a wonderfully sweet watermelon I picked up in town. We sat at the picnic table Mr. FixIt bought me for my first birthday we were together. The second night, I stood across the road and spoke with the neighbors about our gardens and how the creek is trying to navigate it’s way back to it’s original position before they built his house. I turned to look back at Grandma’s house and noticed one of the trees on the bank across the creek leaning way far out. It looked as though it might fall on the house at any minute.

I walked back home and inspected the errant tree. I called Mr. FixIt out front to look at it. We decided it likely will not hit the house if it comes down, but its branches would more than likely damage the front porch and would definitely take down the power lines and the satellite dish. So, there’s another job that needs doing…sooner rather than later.

My view when I first open my eyes at the farm is this window. It was Grandma and Pop-Pop’s view for many, many years. I cannot look out this window without feeling like the luckiest woman on the planet. I can’t quite describe what it feels like to truly be “home”. I spent decades pretending Colorado was home…but it never, ever was. My people are there. My home is here. My heart lives in both places. I will forever be torn…first when I longed to live in West Virginia, and now because so many of my loves live so far from me.

I cannot help but think back to my mother. She was in her last couple of years of life when I begged her to move to Colorado where I could take better care of her and my brother. She refused. This was home. I was furious with her because I couldn’t help her like I wanted to and I felt she was SO stubborn. And now, here I am. There will be a conversation down the road when my daughters will want me to come “home” to Colorado so they can better care for me. And, I will be the one saying no. At least, as long as Mr. FixIt is around. That day is not today. 

Today, I live where my spirit sings.

❤️

“Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.””

Matthew 6:34 TLV