There is
a white farm house with green shutters by corn fields and narrow county roads.
The coffee is strong and rich, the breeze gentle. And when I'm there, the
laughter twirls through the air as four wonderous beings who call me mom run
and play.
While Grandpa makes his famous french toast, Grandma and I sit in the morning light on the deck, mugs steaming (I have a favorite one I like to claim as my own when I visit). We catch up on life as Riley, the dog, runs to catch whatever it is the kids have thrown. Despite the blurry movement of young energy, there is a stillness, a peace that seeps into my soul.
This farm has been my place of refuge, my solace, an oasis of calm in the midst of the crazy of life. I have been welcomed and well-loved by the two people who have called it home. There have been memories made that are planted deep into the soil of my being, and moments made that have grown beautiful. Every blade of grass, every petal, every slant of sunshine that has peeked through the trees, somehow, is a part of who I am now.
Soon this farm will belong to another. And that is hard. There is a sadness to closing this chapter. There is a meaning in letting go of this place that goes deep. But, as life is, change propels us forward whether we like it or not, and new memories are lingering out there, waiting to be caught.
While Grandpa makes his famous french toast, Grandma and I sit in the morning light on the deck, mugs steaming (I have a favorite one I like to claim as my own when I visit). We catch up on life as Riley, the dog, runs to catch whatever it is the kids have thrown. Despite the blurry movement of young energy, there is a stillness, a peace that seeps into my soul.
This farm has been my place of refuge, my solace, an oasis of calm in the midst of the crazy of life. I have been welcomed and well-loved by the two people who have called it home. There have been memories made that are planted deep into the soil of my being, and moments made that have grown beautiful. Every blade of grass, every petal, every slant of sunshine that has peeked through the trees, somehow, is a part of who I am now.
Soon this farm will belong to another. And that is hard. There is a sadness to closing this chapter. There is a meaning in letting go of this place that goes deep. But, as life is, change propels us forward whether we like it or not, and new memories are lingering out there, waiting to be caught.
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