Mornings on the Farm

When I was a little girl, I use to spend weeks at a time on my grandparents’ farm in Tennessee. I would go and stay, and then wail when my mom would come up to take me home.

As a kid, it was my favorite place. My grandparents would drop everything when I would get there. And we would play outside, ride four-wheelers, ride horses, go fishing. It was always perfect.

Fast-forward twenty-something years, and the farm still holds a special place in my heart. But getting to spend time up here is scarce. So I was super excited to get a stop-over here on our way to Nashville.

Who wouldn’t want to wake up here? Have coffee on the front porch? Couple minutes of journaling? Quiet time?

My Papaw’s been gone several years now. But whenever I’m up here sitting on the porch, I still feel like he is around. Watching over us. Quietly participating by keeping this place so beautiful.

I miss him terribly.

But visiting the farm always makes it a little better. Bittersweet. But a little better.

This place feels more like home than anywhere else.

So many memories. I’m so grateful to remember.

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