Take me back to the farm.

The first time I went to the farm, my husband and I had been dating just under a year. I joined him in December…and just like I fell in love with him, I fell in love with the farm

He moved into the basement of the house that they built when he was a baby, and stayed there until he left for college. As he grew, the house grew from one underground level, to another story on top, with a garage and a deck.

I, on the other hand, am an Air Force Brat, and I moved every 1-3 years my entire life.

The appeal of having that touchstone is very deep in me. Still! I dream of retiring in a place where our family can gather, for food and fun, a place to make memories.

We went to the farm twice a year for many years. We drive north every Christmas and Fourth of July. Both times of the year held their own charms, but the main one was just being with family. Sitting on the porch talking to Mom, watching the bird feeders. Having cookouts with extended family. Riding the three wheeler over the acreage, following the back wood trails my husband knew by heart.

Mom grew up on a farm as a child, and would often talk about her years there doing chores, cooking the food I loved to eat.

She was sassy and fun, and she loved me from the get go. She was devastated when my husband’s first marriage was destroyed by betrayal, and she never got over it. She couldn’t believe anyone could do that to someone- especially her only son. We talked of it often – I think she needed to vent, and be assured he wouldn’t have to go through that again. She knew I would love her son and take care of him, just as he takes care of me. I was blessed with a very close relationship with my “mother in love”.

Leaving to make the day long drive back home was always hard. The river maple trees that towered over the front yard stood like sentinels as we left, and the only comfort was I knew we would be back in six months.

Then Dad had to sell that beloved home, because Mom was beginning to show signs of memory loss. It was a quick and devastating blow to see the farm go. A chapter had closed.

With all the uncertainty in the world, I remember the farm this time of year, and all that was good about it. I remember Mom, who was her happiest there, before she slowly faded away, finally going Home to Heaven a year ago March.

No, you can’t go home. With the matriarch gone, gone too are the little things that made that farm wonderful. There is a house on a cul de sac where Dad lives now, in another state from the farm, but it will never be home to us.

For now, this is home. In my quiet times of frequent solitude, I sit on the porch, watch the birds, and listen to nature around me.

I’m grateful for the years we spent visiting the farm, and I’m grateful for a loving Mom.