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The summer farm

Finding ways back

By The Invisible WriterPublished 3 years ago Updated 2 years ago 11 min read
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The Summer Farm

I stood, leaning against the still warm hood of my car looking at the barn and surrounding farm where Uncle Henry and Aunt Ruth had taught me so many life lessons that I still carry with me. Looking across the yard at the red wood barn I notice that it is not quite as tall against the sky as I remembered. The tobacco advertisement on the side had faded in the summers that had passed in the twenty years since I stood in this same spot.

Floating on the air I catch the familiar scent of oats and hay that I always associated with this place. Looking at the house my eyes pause on the small wood door leading to the kitchen. How many mornings had I spent in there with the smell of eggs and bacon coming from the stove watching Aunt Ruth cook breakfast while Uncle Henry drank his morning coffee. Inside me I could feel a feeling of longing that had been dormant for some time starting to wake. This farm had been my home outside of the concrete and pavement of the city.

The city had shaped me, but this place had shown me who I really was. Looking at the closed doors of the barn I half expected to see them slide open just before Uncle Henry would come rumbling out on the tractor we spent so many days fixing when I was young. I wonder if it’s still there inside the barn? I had time to check if I wanted. The lawyer wouldn’t be here till this afternoon. I told him I’d be here at five and it was barely past ten in the morning. I had purposely told him I’d be later than I was, to give me time alone to say goodbye to this place that had meant so much in shaping who I was. I don’t know what will happen to the farm, but today will be the last time I ever see it.

The long ride down from the city had gone in what seemed like minutes rather than hours. Too many memories of days under the sun working with Uncle Henry had preoccupied my mind. Mainly of his old Dodge Sweptline D300 truck, that he and I took on countless trips to get feed or parts for a piece of equipment, usually the tractor, that had broken down. I thought again and again of the times he let me drive in the truck on the road that cut between the fields. It wasn't the excitement of driving the truck that meant so much to me it was the trust he showed in me.

When I finally turned off the interstate and the state road that led from it, I smiled at the site of the Kloss Family Farm sign. The same youthful feeling of pride spread through me in the same way it had when I was no more than a boy. It hadn’t been that way the first time I saw the sign when I was twelve years old. My mother had decided it would be good for me to come and spend the summer on the farm. I spent the entire bus ride from the city hating my mother, my uncle, and the stupid farm I was headed to. Every bounce the Greyhound bus took as it rolled down the endless miles of pavement convinced me I would never forgive the crime of sending me away from the city to a rural wasteland.

When the bus arrived in Culpepper Virginia, I managed to stay mad all the way from the bus to where Uncle Henry was waiting for me. I barely spoke and Uncle Henry seemed content to let me steam. But when we pulled in the driveway, and I saw Aunt Ruth standing on the front porch waiving, I knew I wasn’t going to hate the farm as much as I thought.

Crushing out a cigarette I push up off the car and walk toward the house. Uncle Henry had lived here the past five years alone after Aunt Ruth passed from the cancer that had ravaged her body before taking her life. I should have come back when she got sick. I should have come back long before that. They had taken in a young boy who had gotten in too much trouble and gave him a new perspective. It hurt to know I had forgotten them for their gift.

Walking across the boards of the front porch now so many years later I push my hands toward the bottoms of my pockets thinking of how Aunt Ruth had been so warm to boy she had never met.

“Come on over and let me get a look at you. I’ve been waiting all morning to get one.” I watched Aunt Ruth as she came down the two steps that led from the porch. “You must be hungry after that trip all the way from the city. Your momma said she packed you some sandwiches, but you must’ve ate those hours ago. Come on in the house I got you a nice hot lunch inside.” I stood in the yard looking at her, not moving. “Don’t be shy, Tommy. I got a good Ham sandwich for you and it ain’t as good cold as it is hot.” Crossing my arms in defiance I walked with my head down not wanting to let go of my anger. I didn’t make it two steps on to the porch before she grabbed me, wrapped in her meaty arms, and gave me one of her world encompassing hugs that I would come to love so much. That was when my defenses started to fall and after what I thought was the best sandwich, I’d ever had I knew I liked her. I was still determined not to like the farm, though no matter how much I liked Aunt Ruth or the peach cobbler served with melting vanilla ice cream she gave me for desert.

Standing on the porch looking through a windowpane I can see boxes stacked on the living room floor waiting to be carried out of the home Uncle Henry and Aunt Ruth had spent more than fifty years in. Grabbing the knob on the front door I turn it more than half expecting it to be locked but to my surprise it turns easily. Opening the door, I move inside the house. Before the door closed the emotions of the past came flooding in. The last time I was in this room I made a promise to them that I would be back. Looking at the hardwood floor my eyes settled on the worn spot where Uncle Henry’s chair had been and then on the mantle he stood beside when he offered me my biggest regret.

He had come in from the fields to see me off one last time. My bags were packed and already in the back of Aunt Ruth’s Packard. I stood alone by the front door taking in everything I could from the house. My summers on the farm were over, I was eighteen and headed back to the city to start my adult life. I didn’t know what to expect when he came in. Instead of shaking my hand or giving me a hug, he walked over to the mantle and leaned one of his massive forearms against it. Then we stood for a moment with nothing but quiet air between us.

“I know your leaving, Tommy. I know it’s different this time. When you get home, you’re gonna start your life. I know you like the city. I know you grew up there, but you got a knack for farming you’ve proved that over the last six years. I don’t know what you want to be, but you’ve got a place here if you want it. I’m not a young man anymore. You could take this place over in a few years.” He looked at me in a way I’d never seen him do before. “I love you, Tommy. I hope you’ll comeback. But no matter what you do I’ll always want the best for you.” He stood for another moment before he crossed the room and held his hand out for me. I took his hand and felt his iron grip one last time before he walked back out to return to his work. The sound of the tractors rumbling engine as he drove it back out to the corn field behind the house was resonating in my head all this time later as I stood in the almost empty room remembering the greatest man I had ever known.

Going back outside of the house I walk toward the barn wandering why I had never come back. The happiest memories of my life had been spent in the kitchen with Aunt Ruth, in the barn with Uncle Henry, with them both on the back porch petting a chocolate lab named Harvestor after Uncle Henry’s favorite brand of tractor. Halfway along the path between the house and barn I let my mind drift back again to that first day I was here.

My converse chucks made little clouds of dust as I walked, nervous to the barn. Sneaking a look back over my shoulder at the house I saw that Aunt Ruth had already gone back inside and the door to the kitchen was closed. The cobbler was still warm in my stomach, and I thought about turning around to ask for more. But I knew Aunt Ruth would just send me back to the barn if I did. Inching my way forward I slowly came to the open doors of the barn. Standing on the last bit of dirt that separated the yard from the inside of the barn I listened intently to any sound I could hear. From inside Uncle Henry's voice came booming out to me.

“Come on in here Tommy, and give me a hand with this.” He was on the other side of largest tractor I had ever seen, not that I’d seen many in the city. It rose over the hay laying on the ground like a giant dinosaur. Against the fear I was holding inside I made my way over to the opposite side of the tractor where Uncle Henry was on his back halfway underneath it's massive frame. Standing by the word International written in white letters down the side of the steel body I stretched out peeking with just my eyes around the front.

“Don’t worry Tommy I don’t bite. Grab that ½ inch wrench down by your feet and hand it to me and I'll want show you what I’m doing here.” Slinking the rest of the way around to where Uncle Henry was, I picked up the wrench and held it out. That was the beginning for Uncle Henry and me. He was the only father I ever really had, my own father left before I made it out of my mom’s womb. He had shaped the man I was. I wished somehow I had found a way to thank him for that.

I knew I still loved them that had never changed so why had it taken their deaths and a call from a Lawyer to get me back here? Running my hands through my hair I thought of the other question that was turning over in my mind. What did the lawyer want and why had he insisted that I come here in person? The sound of tires pulling on gravel drew me from my thoughts. It wasn't close to five. A twinge of regret on top of all the other regret raced through me. The lawyer was early.

When I stepped from the barn I could see the lawyer already standing outside of his car. He was a tall lean man and when I got all the way over to him, I could see he had opened his briefcase and made two stacks of legal documents on the hood of his Lincoln Continental.

“Tommy Barnes.” The Lawyer said without looking up.

“That’s me.”

“I would do a proper introduction but we don't have much time.” He said, his attention still on the papers resting on the hood. “The Short of it is, Mr. Barnes, your uncle has left you this farm.” My only thought was- he what. The lawyer moved his eyes up from the papers and looked at me. “The long of it is, you have to agree to live here and work the farm right now or let it be sold at auction with the proceeds going to the 4-H in Willow Hill.” I was in shock. I had to concentrate just to follow the words he was saying. “If you decide to take the farm, you’ll have to sign the papers now. I wanted to give you more time to think about it, but you weren’t an easy man to track, and we’ve simply run out of time.” He paused briefly. “If you decide to keep the farm you will have to agree to the terms now. Then I’ll have to go directly to the court to stop the auction.” I turned away from him to look out over the fields. I needed a moment to clear my head. “I can give you a minute Mr. Barnes, but that’s all I have.”

It surprised me when the answer came. It was like a flash of lightning inside my head and for the first time in a long time, I knew exactly what I wanted. Turning back to him, I asked.

“Which papers do I sign?”

“You want the farm, then?” He asked.

“I do.” I said, wearing a smile. I knew it was crazy. I had a whole life in the city, but I knew that this farm the life that Uncle Henry and Aunt Ruth had lived was the only one I wanted.

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About the Creator

The Invisible Writer

"Poetry is what happens when nothing else can"

Charles Bukowski

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