Tom was able to reconnect with siblings, aunts, uncles and a whole host of cousins. As for me, I tried to stand back and just watch the reunion unfold.
I heard old family stories told in different versions, much like the gospels, all truth just from different perspectives, and I saw my husband in a whole different role of brother, cousin and beloved nephew. I liked him in that role; he was funny, attentive and definitely more sociable then I have seen him in a long time! I found myself wishing I had known him "way back when."
Many of the stories and memories were centered around life on the farms. Corn fields, gardens, and houses all soaked in childhood memories as well as those of young parents of large (and I do mean large) families, raising kids and corn together.
Even though I grew up hundreds of miles away, I found myself feeling connected to these old buildings, tree swings and memories.
Journal Entry: June 14, 2014
"I can understand why people feel as if they lived a different life or time. The old barn, the fields and country roads stir a longing in my soul to "return."
Somewhere in my unconscious memory is a little girl curled up with a book and a barn kitten in the hay mow (pronounced mow as in cow for those of us non-farmers). Or was that something I read in a book as a wishful child while lying under a tree in the suburbs of Casper, Wyoming?
Either way, the "memory" is as warm and familiar as an old friend.
On this same trip I had the opportunity to return to my own childhood
roots as well.
I visited the cemetery where my mother's parents are buried.
And visited the house where I spent a portion of my childhood years. I took a chance of sneaking around the corners of the house like a ghost, reliving memories of building sandcastles in the alley, and thrilling to thunder storms from the safety of the screened-in porch. (Bob, do you remember running out and catching hail to make "tapioca pudding" in tin cans on the old gas stove in the living room? How could I have forgotten? I will remember for the both of us).
How can I not mention the joy of hearing the song of a meadowlark, smelling the goldenrod, and the distant smell of a skunk? All things I had longed to experience one more time (it was too early for crickets, but the oriels made up for the lack; thanks, Linda.).
All in all, a lovely trip down memory lane: The Farmlands of Wisconsin, The Wheat Fields of Wyoming.
