There is no remedy for love but to love more. -- Henry David Thoreau
The moonlight from a full moon bounces off the roof of the faded rusty pink barn. Its beams of light create shadows on the chicken coop below. There are no harsh loud sounds, only the familiar tick, tick of the clock on the wall. On the next hour, the clock will chime twelve times, a soothing sound that echoes through the farmhouse as I sit, in wait of the morning.
There always seems to be those sleepless nights when the exhaustion from a long days work is not going to work. An exhaustion that will ‘Knock the light out of you’, an old grandma saying, that seems to make sense to me, now. My Hero sleeps soundly after a long days work in the next room. As I sit in my chair by the window with my Mom’s knitted blanket and my Dad’s quilt wrapped around me to keep the chill of the night away, I drift off.
There were never too many reasons that had me want to leave the farm. When I did leave, it was usually a pleasure trip or to spend times with my daughters or other family members living far away. Missing them was usually why I would leave for those short visits. I have always found everything else I needed here on the farm. The land holds my heart. It holds my soul. There was nothing that could keep me away from it for very long. After being away for a while, that familiar ‘pang’ of love would always pull me back.
This ‘pang’ was so physically and mentally painful, that I would have to hop on the nearest form of transportation and get back. Rushing back to soothe the aching. We were one, the land and I, and nothing could ever separate us for very long. The land would always welcome me with open arms and never ask why I was gone so long, always knowing that I would be back. The land knows it has all the power.
A loud bump outside has me sit up straight and open my eyes. It was only a dream. A dream of things I have not forgotten, and that tug at my heart.
No chimes ring on the hour of twelve. There’s no moonlight shining on the faded pink rusty barn. There’s no shadow cast upon the chicken coop below. There’s no Mom’s blanket or Dad’s quilt wrapped around me, nor blue chair beneath me. No Hero sleeping in the next room.
Only, the glow from the streetlight bounces off the roof and lands on the hardwood floor. Traffic moving and then that banging over a pothole outside echo through the room. The sound of a hungry baby crying and a new Mom trying to soothe her float through the air, bring a smile. I am where I need to be at this time.
I now realize that the pull of the land and that ‘pang’ on my heart and soul is going to have some fierce competition.
‘Pangs’ of love for the land and a life far away are now competing with a little girl who lives in the city. Each one tugging and pulling as hard as they can in a tug of war for this new Gramma’s heart. This transition is going to take some getting used to.