The Farm

We spent father's day weekend in Decatur, TX at my grandmother's home, a place we call the farm. We moved around while I was growing up and so there is no childhood home for me to go back and visit. But my grandmother's home goes back as far as my memories go and when I'm there I find a peace that I'm not able to duplicate anywhere else.

I was itching for a vacation, so this trip felt like more than just a trip to visit family, it felt like a mini-vacation. I looked forward to it all week, which made the week that much more fun, and the trip did not disappoint.

Kyle took off on Friday, so we got up and left, on the road by 8 am, that's a record around here. We decided to take the roads through the small towns instead of on the interstate, this is my favorite way to get anywhere because just about every town we go through I start to imagine myself living there. As we drive I decide what type of job Kyle would have, what type of house we'd live in, how big our garden would be, and how we would fill our days with swimming and cooking and gardening (it's always spring or summer in my head in these cute little towns).

While driving through Glen Rose we passed a natural spring with rock slides and decided spur of the moment, that we should stop and go swimming. So we pulled over at a city park and spent a couple of hours splashing and playing (and falling on our butts !) Then we came upon a wonderful restaurant that was just fancy enough to taste really good, without having to be embarrassed that you just came from the river and have small children. We ate on the porch of this old house that has been turned into the restaurant and I had a thousand glasses of water with lemon. The menu had a just a few really good dishes to choose from, this always makes me very pleased, most menus these days completely overwhelm me and make me anxious trying to read all the choices and decide quickly, while keeping my kiddos under wraps.

We made it to Decatur that afternoon and began visiting with my grandma and her dear friend who cares for her Ms. Betty. Ms. Betty had planned out a full weekend for us with chores for Kyle, fishing and kiting for the kids, a downtown fair for all of us, and lots of wonderful cooking. No matter how hard I tried to help, Ms. Betty took care of everything for us, and I left feeling refreshed and rested.

On Sunday we went to my grandmother's church, a tiny little church in the middle of the country that was built a hundred years ago (or so, I'm not sure of the exact date). The people were sweet, the music was wonderful, and afterwards my children swang on the same swings that my father and I did when we were their age.

We left a little reluctantly on Sunday afternoon, spilling over with the love that had been given us that weekend, and already looking forward to next time.