The Brother Who Kept

I was to blame I thought as I looked around the weathered old barn. I was always to blame as I was the one who left. My father said so, the people in town said as much and my brothers would agree I was to blame for leaving and what might have been.

There were three sons in my family. Eli which is me, and my younger twin brothers Lanie and James. My parents owned a four-hundred-acre farm in a little town in northern New Hampshire. We had cows and chickens. We grew several types of vegetables, fruit and even lavender that my mother would sell at a road side stand. My dad focused on the livestock and had a contract with one of the larger dairy corporations for milk, eggs and cheese. He hired local people to help during peak seasons, but for most of the year it was our family, mainly my brothers and I who helped with the farm.

The land had passed down through three generations in our family. My parents inherited it from my father’s parents and they had received the land from my grandmother’s parents who had been given it as a wedding present from another relative or so the story goes. I grew up knowing there was already a plan for my destiny whether I chose it or not.

Don’t get me wrong many times I agreed that as the oldest son I would abide by my parent’s wishes and take over the farm when the time came. I was the oldest. I was the most confident and had more business and agricultural knowledge compared to my brothers who were often more concerned with getting laid and smoking weed. I would often catch them in the barn with some girl from another town. Sometimes, I would take a hit when they passed me a joint. Most of the time I would just shake my head as I knew their behavior was sealing my fate as the one who would have to stay and run this place.

Even at a young age I knew I wanted more than the daily grind of milking cows, plucking vegetables or worrying about paying the bills for a property so big. Sometimes, I would try to teach them how to understand soil and when to spread seed. It was always like they knew they didn’t have to bother, but I kept trying so maybe there was a chance it would go to one of them. I would try because I wanted to travel. I wanted to meet new people. I wanted different things than farm life.

At one point James did start to take an interest. He started to follow me around more. He seemed to be listening when I showed him how to help a cow deliver her calf, how to make repairs in the barn and how to spread fertilizer over the vegetable crops. I had hope that James would be the one who could take over. However, it all changed when James died.

He was riding a tractor late in the afternoon. I knew he had been drinking, but I thought he was fine. At least he said he was fine. I wanted the rest of hay baled. It was late September and we would need more straw for the cows to make it through the winter. He fell when he poorly navigated a turn. He was crushed by the tractor that came down on him. I can remember watching as if in slow motion the accident take place. I could not scream or move for several minutes. Lanie was hysterical and ran for my parents. My mother screamed as I never heard another scream before. We all knew that the accident and the loss of my brother would change all our lives going forward.

When James died something in Lanie changed. He started to try to learn. He still was not great at it, but he was up milking cows rather letting me do it by myself. He was feeding chickens and running the farm stand with my mother. There was something that died in him, but also something that woke for Lanie when we lost James.

On the other hand, I found myself wanting to leave more than ever. I did not want to be stuck. I did not want to die riding a tractor or drown in sorrow of debt like I saw my father doing. I thought about joining the military but then I thought I was leaving one restrictive place for another. Then one day I picked up my father’s old camera and something clicked. It was an old 35 millimeter by a company that does not exist anymore. I took my first picture of the old barn. Then another from the inside of the covered bridge that connected our farm to the main road.

I took a picture of a butterfly that had landed on some of crops we lost that year. I saw things when I developed the film. I saw the life I wanted and the life I would leave.

I told my parents the week after high school graduation that I was moving in with a friend and going to take classes at the local community college while I worked at a diner busing tables. My father stared at me as though I had betrayed him, which I guess I deserved. I was leaving and they would need to make other plans. I was the hope for the future. The legacy they hoped would carry of their family farm. Lanie was still not ready nor were they confident he would ever be ready. My mother cried, but she did keep in contact with me. She wrote letters and when I started working for a magazine, she told me she shared clippings with her friends.

My father would not speak to me again in any real conversation. When I called, he would quickly pass the phone to my mother. Once in a while I would talk to Lanie who would tell me the latest stories about what was going on in town. He also slowly took over more responsibility of the farm. When my mother and then my father died, he seemed ready to take over or so I thought.

Lanie never really had the head for the farming business. He had a tough time making decisions and often lost whole crops because of bad judgement. He lost the farm help as well when he could not afford them. I returned a couple of times over the years to help though I made no plans to stay. I did send money, but he blew through all of it. I tried to talk to him about selling. He would not hear of it. People in town did not like that I was encouraging him to sell either and made their opinions known any time they saw me that I was now a “traitor” or a “sell-out” to them.

As for me, I continued to make my way as a photographer. I traveled and worked for several national magazines. I enjoyed being behind the camera taking pictures of people and places to hopefully show a new light or a vision that has not been seen before. I have tried to keep my work in step with the times. I have my own social media account and even sold my pictures on-line. I met a woman in England and had a daughter with her. I stay with them when I am over there, but we are not married. She accepts me and has not pushed for marriage.

I was in Belize on a photography shoot of the scarlet macaw for a non profit that is trying to save the endangered majestic bird from extinction when I checked the email on my phone. I knew it was not good, as I saw an address from a hospital back home, Lanie was there and asking for me.

I looked at the pictures I had taken of the beautiful intelligent bird who yearned always to be alone in the sky. Yet so many would be taken into captivity to make someone else happy and I could relate. Misunderstood when caged, yet so beautiful when they were free to fly.

It took me a few days to get here, but I came. I drove straight to the hospital. He held on as he was dying. He had cancer which had metastasized quickly. He was thin and worn. He looked much older than his 57 years. He was asleep when I entered, but his eyes opened after I said his name. He told me he was glad I came. He motioned for me to lean in which I did. He then paused and spoke very softly.

“You know you are an asshole!” he choked out.

“Is this why you asked me to come here so you could tell me that?”

“I wanted to tell you that I was glad you left.” he was making every effort to smile.

“What?”

“Yes, I was glad when you left”

“Okay, you need to rest.”

“I then became a son that mattered." Lanie continued, "I became the son who stayed. Out of the three brothers; James died and you left, but I stayed. My legacy you see! I’m leaving the farm to you. It is okay if you sell. I know it has been hard for you as no one understood. I was glad you gave me the opportunity to be the brother that kept the farm even if you are the one to get rid of it. I just wanted you to know that." He was looking at me with more love in his eyes than I have ever known

"Also, you are a pretty good photographer. I kept the picture from inside the covered bridge. It is hanging in the kitchen."

"Thanks Lanie." I started to tell him he mattered more than running the farm and it would have probably failed if I stayed. When I looked over, he had nodded off to sleep. I pulled the blanket over my brother and sat with him. I did stay with Lanie until he passed a few days later.

I again look at the what was left of the dilapidated barn and take another picture as if to provide closure. This time on my cell phone and of the roof showing the sky above where hope still held true. There are cracks and I know they will not be repaired. The closing is in an hour. I have the picture from inside the covered bridge tucked under my arm.

I was able to give part of the land to a conservation group. The town would not allow all of the property to be donated. There was a great deal of debt and back taxes so I had to sell. There is a developer who is buying. I’m sure the people in town will never understand, but that is okay. I was never understood here anyways.

I close the barn door behind me that no longer locks and head to the realtor’s office.