A view across the field on the old farm out in the country that I grew up on. I took this picture in 1980, two years before we moved to town. The tree in the foreground is a Persimmon tree that I used to love to climb and that I played under many days with my Matchbox cars that I bought at Woolsworth. This field had wild Blackberrys growing in it. My Grandma and I used to go out their sometimes and pick them so that she could make a Blackberry cobbler. I can still remember exactly how good it tasted. The farmhouse was old and drafty, but was home for 18 years to my Parents, my Grandma (on my Dad's side), myself, my Sister, and both of my Brothers. Now, 24 years later, this is all an "upscale" subdivision. The farmhouse was torn down several years after we moved and the peacefulness of this wonderful place is completely gone. I miss the old place. Sometimes memories are great, but they just add to the sadness. Out of the seven people that were there, only 3 of us are left. My Grandmother died back in 1985. My Mom passed away back in 1993, and my Dad passed away back in February. I lost my Sister to Cancer back in 2001. Unfortunately, my Brothers and I are so busy these days, that we don't get much of a chance to talk. But when we do, the subject of the "old homeplace" will come up, and we will trade stories and memories of growing up out in the country. I can't say that I would want to do it all again, but I sure do miss it sometimes.
Actually, it just occurred to me that I need to tell my Brothers that I love them.
