I've been "on the road" most of my adult life. It is a lifestyle that is often required by my profession.
I find myself remembering tonight my grandfather's farm in Arkansas. The fields that went on as far as the eye could see...soybean and cotton in the fields. The old barns. The tractor shed. Learning how to ride my first horse. The idyllic summers spent on the banks of the White and Black river learning to fish for catfish with my cousins. The brilliant star-filled sky at night. The sound of the Whip-poor-will in the morning and at dusk. The smell of my grandmother's cooking in the morning. Laughter at the kitchen table late at night. Fourth of July celebrations. The sound of country music playing constantly in the background. Simple lives. Easy nights of sound sleep. Big down-filled beds. My grandfather's easy going manner..his particular way of looking off into the distance when he listened to the daily farm report on the radio. His boots that he bought on his trips to Texas. Learning how to trade antiques under his tutelage. The warmth of the fireplace on cold winter nights.
Early in the years of my travels, I always made a point of returning to my grandfather's farm for Christmas every year.
My grandfather is gone.
The old farmhouse has been torn down.
The family is scattered.
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