nostalgia

memories have a powerful way of stirring the heart, the soul, the mind. the way a smell can bring you to a precise moment in the past as if it were happening again right now. the way standing in a familiar spot can make your heart rewind ten years. i recently experienced great nostalgia while roaming around a family farm. it is abandoned now, in fact, for sale as of recently, which may be what makes processing these memories so difficult.

as i walked through the overgrown grass, covered in mosquitos and sweat, i couldn’t help but remember the many days my sisters, cousin and i played baseball in that gravel driveway. or ran to the chicken coop to “check the chickens.” or the many expeditions we had exploring the pastures, creeks and rural tucked away cemeteries. my grandfather who lived there and his parents, my great grandparents were good good people. hard workers, instrumental in this community and valued family strongly. they served our country in war. lived through the depression. i remember spending christmas at that farm and my grandfather would save the wrapping paper to reuse the next year. i laughed at that as a kid but i now appreciate that small act which demonstrated his values and what was instilled in him from living through a depression. that memory in particular helps me appreciate my mom’s frugality because i know where that trait stems from. small memories can unravel great truths of your history.

also tucked away on that farm are memories of my mom selflessly caring for my grandfather as he aged. when i see a tupperware container, i often think of the many meals she prepared for him to keep in the freezer. the repaired fence reminds me of the way my dad and uncle would drop what they were doing to help my grandfather around the farm if needed. a characteristic i admire most about them. this farm isn’t fancy. i don’t ever remember watching tv there. the only toys i remember are a baseball bat and ball. my imagination was allowed to explore. that farm was saturated in love. it was a place where family gathered, where many generations grew.

part of remembering is also grieving. certainly grieving the death of loved ones that are in those memories but also grieving dreams. i think i envisioned my kids growing up on that farm one day. unrealistic, but for some reason, that dream lived in my heart. though in grieving that dream, i realize that my kids are living the exact childhood these sweet memories stem from, just at a different “farm.” the family, love, values, adventure, history and simplicity all abound.