The Simple Life

Chronic Conditions & Life Lessons

After ten long hours scrunched in the car, we finally made it to the farm.  Gravel under tires made the familiar crunching sound.  We pulled in atop loose stones, pebbles of grey and white designating a drive-way amid acres long called, home.  Did I miss the turn of the key or the sound of the melody?  Four doors suddenly sprung open like a long closed box.  Out popped arms and legs in different sizes and shapes.  Stretching and bending this way or that, reminding me of my little brother’s green Gumby toy when we were young.  Perhaps his horse, Pokey is eating hay in the barn?

The farm belongs to my father-in-law, but it is my husband’s legacy.  It’s important that my children and grandchildren know where their father and grandfather came from.  Where his life began.  They may not remember this trip today, so my pictures will be a…

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