I pulled into the drive at the farm at 2:30, shut off the truck, and opened the door to get out. Before I could move an inch, the sounds and smells of spring washed over me and I had to lean back and take it all in. The Caroline Wren in the old cherry tree called “Cheer! Cheer! Cheer!” as I watched a fat chipmunk scamper under my kayak. Squirrels rustled in the dried leaves at the base of hickory and oak trees, scavenging for nuts to munch on. The sky was crystal clear and the air was crisp. I smiled and a let out a contented sigh.
I’m home.
It’s just one of my “homes”, but this one rests so solidly in my heart. I’ve never known a time when this farm WASN’T home. Whether I was a little kid scrambling up the hills looking for moss and rocks. Or a young bride bringing her first baby home to meet her great grandmother. Or any other time I’ve walked in the back door and into my family’s embrace.
So many are gone now. PopPop in ‘71…my first experience with death. Grandma in 1999. Mom in 2004. Uncle Bob in 2008. I have one aunt living and once she is gone…I will be the matriarch. This place is woven out of memories and hard work and sacrifice. As I lay propped up on the pillows in my grandparents’ bed writing this, I can still see them laying here in the dark as my mom quietly walked me to the bathroom in the middle of the night.
Grandma would whisper in the dark, “Are you ok, pet?”
“Yes, Grandma.”
As we walked back through she’d whisper, “Sleep tight.”
“You, too.”
Grandma called me “Pet”. My brother was “Geddy Lee”. My cousins were “Tissy Rae”, “TimTam”, and “Trinket”. She had a nickname for everyone and always made you feel like you were the very center of the universe. She was never happier than the days when everyone was here at the same time. That happened less and less often as the grandkids grew and had families of their own. We all came together a year or so before Grandma died so she could have us all here with her one last time. I will always hold that memory close. After this last year and not seeing my own children and grandchildren, I have a much deeper appreciation for what she felt during those gatherings.
When Daughter #1 and Co. come this summer, I’m hoping to gather as many of the family together as I can. This house is living on borrowed time. When Aunt Peeps died last year, she requested no funeral or memorial. But, she didn’t say we couldn’t have a picnic! I think it’s high time we get together and honor this old farm and all those who have called it home and gone before us to their heavenly rewards. It’s time to say goodbye to a piece of my past.
I’ve never known a time when this farm wasn’t “mine”. Unfortunately, that time is coming. My uncle is aging and can’t do what needs to be done. If I were 30 years, even 20 years younger, I’d buy it. But, there’s just too much work to do to bring this old gal back to life. I have a 2nd cousin 1x removed that would be the perfect person to buy this house and keep it in the family. This is something I’ve been praying on. If it’s meant to be, it will happen. But, for me, the days here are numbered.
I’ve been working on letting go for the last couple of years. It won’t be easy when I can’t stay here whenever I want. But, really…nothing will ever take away my lifetime of memories in this little slice of heaven. I think my blood is the color of the faded red paint on the rough sawn timbers or the red clay soil. The place is as much a part of me as my hands and feet.
It is my heart.
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“By wisdom a house is built, and by understanding it is established; by knowledge the rooms are filled with all precious and pleasant riches.”
Proverbs 24:3-4 ESV