Author: Jessa (Pittsburgh, USA)
Contact: blisterbug at comcast dot net
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Categories: [cool]  [family]  [pride]  [reflection]  

Nestled in the hills of western Pennsylvania is my home. It’s accessible only by traveling a long and winding dirt road. Shady oak and walnut trees line the way like soldiers. In summer I often used to think they were standing in full battle dress ready and willing to protect. Of all the placed I have lived I have never felt safe anywhere but at the “farm.” The “farm” is 200 acres of rich and black soil where 3 generations have grown up. A small house, 2 barns and an assortment of animals. The last working farm in the township, it is a testament to time standing still in some places.

Construction on the house began in 1939. My grandfather was 22 years old and newly married. He was ready to settle down on his own patch of land purchased with money hard earned from working in the coal mines. The tract of land he purchased is actually an entire side of a mountain. His first investment was a brand new Farmall model H to yank stumps and rocks out of the ground. In 1940 the Army called. The outlining walls of the house stood until 1945 when he returned home. By the end of 1946 he was moved in with one small child and another on the way. The barns came later along with two more children including my father.

By the time my father was born in 1954 all the land had been cleared of brush and more equipment had been purchased. When my father was old enough he helped with crops and the garden while my grandfather went to work at Best Feeds, a feed mill in town. Everything they had was produced right there.

Obviously by the time I was born in 1979 things had slowed down. My father took over the farm and was raising beef cattle and Appaloosa horses. After my mother’s death my father sent me to live with my grandparents. Since the garden was now a half hearted attempt with tomatoes, corn and some pumpkins I spent most of my time in the house with my grandmother. She taught me how to clean and can. When she died I was 6. She made my grandfather promise to take care of me.

And he did. For 12 years I lived with him in that drafty farmhouse. I taught myself how to make his favorites, from raisin pie to roasted red pepper sandwiches. I cleaned for him, I did the laundry. And I helped my father with the actual farm work. Plowing, planting, harvesting. Butchering steers to have meat for the winter. Gathering the eggs. Breaking colts and fillies. Riding along every weekend checking the fence.

I did not see MTV until I was 19 years old. We did not have cable. We did not even have a furnace. We used a wood burner to keep us warm. To this day I am freezing all the time and air conditioning was a luxury reserved for city folk. Whenever the heat of July would press upon us I would go swimming in the pond or lay in the shade of the porch swing.

Now, I am 24 years old. My grandfather will be 86 next week. I live in a house in the suburbs now with air conditioning and central heating and digital cable. I surf the Internet and I feed my family meat bought in the store.

But when the weather turns chilly and the darkness creeps in at 5:00 I find myself lighting candles that smell like spice and smoke. I grab the quilt I was presented with on my wedding day and I turn all of the lights off. I sit in the quiet of my library and I pick up the phone.

All week I sit and daydream about Sunday when I will go home and clean for my grandfather. We’ll drink hot apple cider and crack walnuts on these frosty afternoons and in the summer a big pitcher of lemonade is required. We laugh and reminisce.

My old Pennsylvania home. No matter how far I travel I remember. I will always remember the way the leaves change in October. The taste of a vine ripened tomato. Fresh beef, tender and juicy. The smell of raisin pie baking in the oven.

When I hear my grandfather’s voice I hear many years of hard work. I hear a man who is tired but not down. Every night when I talk to him I hear the same question. “When are you going to move home so you can raise that baby right?” Soon, Pappy. So very soon. You never have to return if you don’t leave. Even if you are only there in your heart.

Other submissions by this author: :  Forever Friends  ::  A glimpse of heaven  :

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