It's about that time

It's about that time. My mind is getting ready. I've got that picture in my head, although time has made it fuzzy. I want the kids to see what I once saw. Grandpa's old leather rocker sits waiting for side by side partners with stories that come out black & white.

Heading back at the end of the month means the garden will be set and the morning glories will open up bright blues & purples...in my mind. There is the possibility we might find a heavy dew spread across the front yard that climbs up the old pecan tree and settles down beneath the waters along the creek bed...in my mind.

But whatever the weather, the old homeplace will sit upon its haunches, proud as ever, but showing its age. A place that gives birth to a grandfather, a mother, a granddaughter's spirit - can only be vintage valuable in the hearts of those who refuse to let it be anything else.

The kids might never truly know, as nor I, all of the stories that have played out here on this farm, but it won't be for lack of listening to the whispering walls. My intent is to make little discoveries inside the stories of those who have known, find bits and pieces of artifacts and put them together like a puzzle that has fallen apart.

The truth is, we have the responsibility to remain a part of this place like pieces of old dresses grandma stitched into a patchwork quilt, the one that we keep for those memory ridden nights when the chill is too much to keep warm on thoughts alone.

Yes, it is time to head back. When the world makes you into something else and you lose track of what once was - it is time to head back. Back to grandpa's old leather chair, the great pecan tree, the red brick on the house, & the low banks on the creek bed...

...just waiting on May 29th to get here...