I should mention that we had a lovely summer. We spent much time at the beach and generally enjoying each others company. I can't say I regret the lazing about. We needed some serious down time. A chance to regroup and reconnect and gather strength for the changes we knew were coming at us this year. Namely, me going back to work for the first time (officially anyway) in 11 years. I think it's been a bigger adjustment for me than anyone else. But given my slightly neurotic nature, I guess that shouldn't come as a surprise.
We spent the last of our summer back in Ontario, hanging with my family, eating lovely garden grown food and drinking (oy, my liver) much wine. And although we had a very busy time of it, it really was an excellent visit. Which is saying a lot considering the amount of whining I did about travelling to ONTARIO to stay in the MIDDLE OF NOWHERE. Seriously, it's the middle of nowhere out there.
And slowly I started to reconnect with what that place means. It's the closest thing to a home I've ever had. That middle of nowhere place was the only touchtone in a chaotic world of moving so much. And I think it's hard sometimes for me to recognize the old place because so much of it is new. The old house is gone. The old guy too. The old barns. The little shed that my Grandfather called the culleny house smelling of axel grease and junk and dust. But little by little what was left of the old place started to emerge. The pig barn, no longer housing pigs and rapidly falling down.
Brick walkways made from what is left of the old barn after a wind storm twisted the wooden structure off it's foundation. 'The Deighton's' sign salvaged onto the fancy new shed.
The ring of foundation from the old silo stubbornly refusing to amalgamate into the drive that now graces the front of the new barn. I can clearly recall opening up the spooky little door at the bottom of it and yelling up into the echoey cement tube when it was empty in the spring. And I can hear his voice tell me to be careful.
And I discovered that he's still there. The traces of his life strewn about the place. Tucked into little secret corners; lingering there. Reminding me that I do have a tether that connects me to something larger than I am. Reminding me that nothing in this life is ever really lost, just sometimes hidden from view, waiting patiently to be discovered again. Reminding me that - despite my non-enthusiasm for the humidity (which was high) and the rushy rush of travelling and trying to cram everything in that we needed to - sometimes, it's okay to go home.
