I am going home. I have started the journey home.
I returned to the place of my youth. To connect. To know good things once again. To live in my memories. Beautiful memories. They had died to me. But I made them live again.
It was a hot summer’s day when I returned. Just like those I had known at the farm. It always was a place of refuge. And it always seemed sunny there.
How can I capture all those memories in words? I do not know. Yet I must.
I sat, on the rise, watching horses go by. And in that moment I KNEW – this was where I wanted to be buried. This was where I must be brought – on a horse drawn cart. Back to my home, to rest for ever.
We left, when I was a baby. We left that beautiful place. It feels like an eternity separates me from that time. But now, I want to spend the rest of eternity there. Drawn there by the horses. And on my gravestone the words, “Home at Last.”
Tears pour from my eyes as I contemplate that not too far away time. I have travelled far, and long. But now I am coming home. Home at last.
(To be continued)