My mom grew up on a farm and I’ve been back to visit only a couple of times in many years.
The farm remains in the family, and the current owner, my cousin, takes remarkable care of all the buildings.
I remember spending time on the farm when I was a young kid. Exploring the barns, hanging out in the corn crib. Riding the tractors with my uncle.
Tools still hang in my grandfather’s shop. I never spent any time there, we were forbidden from exploring it, and it seemed kind of scary.
The farm is a special place and I’m glad it’s still in the family, though it’s a huge responsibility and a lot of work to take care of it.
I miss so many people that used to work or live on the farm. Sometimes I think I can see them just around that next barn corner.