Tears

The time always arrives on the farm that I detest. The mornin' of our departure. Times haven't changed for me even though I'm now 35. Tears ensue and last walks of staring into the fields as though it would be my last time seeing this treasured place haunt my thoughts and tease my brain long after I've gone. I adore the farm. I am so thankful that I have had something like this to help form me. Not many people have ever been on a working farm. They don't understand the call of the farmer who struggles to make ends meet just so that the rest of America can have bread. I have an appreciation for the land that was instilled in me from the time I was HS's age. My family believed in the necessity for understanding nature's rule over this land and the importance of exploring the possibilities that existed within the fields surrounding the farmhouse.

Ever step I take on the farm with my kids is akin to wandering down the far recesses of my mind and breathing new life into those memories. Although I never realized that what I grew up adoring would then be passed to my own children, I'm thrilled that they each are taking something from their time spent with my DA (dear Aunt) and my wonderful cousins. It delights my soul that like me, I watched HS wander the fenceline surrounding sheep, saying not goodbye, but "see you soon!" with tears in his eyes as LD held her chubby fingers out to the wind and closed her eyes for a moment as a huge smile crept across her cheeks. At just the right moment, the tender embrace of DA brought us all back to hugging before completing the moment we dreaded the most: traveling down the backroad taking us further from her and the land we love.