Old Places

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I know, I know! I’m fascinated by cows of late!

Each morning traveling down Hwy 45, I pass an old homestead that has belonged to a family member since before I can remember. There is a photo somewhere of my two boy cousins who lived there, and me, sitting out on the lawn. Maybe 18 months, I was all dressed up in lace and tiny shoes, with very short hair and a face that doesn’t resemble the one I see each morning in the mirror.

My mother’s older sister lived here with her husband and children. She passed away a few years back and her husband has moved from the homestead into the home of his daughter. As I was taking this photo last Sunday early, they pulled in beside me on their way to a restaurant for breakfast, something they do every Sunday. My cousin was driving and she said, “We charge for taking photographs.” I told her to put it on my account.

The taking of the photos and talking with her and my uncle, set the tone for the day. Working in a very old place, the Mill on War Eagle Creek (or River whichever you prefer), and passing very old places along the route to work, reminds me that our lifetimes may come and go but there are some places that live on many years outside of ours. It takes me to the place of thinking that though things seem iffy in our world right now, many iffy moments and times have come my ancestors way and we are still here.

Yes, a bit worse for the wear but still here. Just like my uncle’s barn, slowly falling down and the house no longer habitable, but the property still produces hay and supports his cattle. And every day he is there, walking around the property, and posting barriers to keep the thieves away from the accumulated antiques around the property.

Old places, old times, old folks. Gives me such a sense of peace as I slide into the last few decades of my life. Makes me wonder what I will leave behind to remind those following me of the times before.

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