Post 8: Custodian
Standing on that land, I realized something. My father didn’t just give me memories. He created the conditions for them. And now, whether my children ever connect to this farm the way I do or not… I carry that same responsibility. They will have their own places. Their own “farms,” whatever those may be. Places that mean something to them in ways I may never fully understand. And that’s okay. Because this isn’t about recreating the past. It’s about providing the present. One day, I hope I get to ask them the kinds of questions I’ve been forced to ask myself. I want to know what matters to them. What places shaped them. What memories stayed. Because the truth is, the things I remember from this farm… I am the only one who will ever remember them exactly this way. And maybe that’s reason enough to write them down. Not to preserve the land. But to preserve what it meant. This is the final post of a multi part series, reflections on the farm owned by my father and my gra...