Corn Fed

Last night the lil' dude and I took a trip to Grandma's house- Grandma-Great S!
She was so excited to see two of her very best gals.
The lil' dude? She ran straight from her car seat into the woodshed where Grandpa's old golf cart sits waiting for riders.
Ride! Brrroooom! She squealed.
Grandma got tears in her eyes, why that baby girl remembers this place! She's so little! She remembers!
And Mama, feeling her own eyes burn, that's because no one ever forgets this place.

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She makes me proud, my daughter. This is the one place I miss most in my life. My entire life begins in that old farmhouse. Watching my generation of family takeover my old spots makes me humble.

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We sit around the ancient dining room set, eating the best food you can imagine. The lil' dude shovels in her third helping of freshly canned carrots, from 2009's bounty, doused in real butter and real salt. She's already eaten an entire cob of fresh garden corn, the butter, the butter is in her hair and on her neck. I feel my eyes burn again. More, she signs quietly, her mouth too full for words. My heart, too full as well.

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Goodbyes at this place are still as hard for me as they were when I was a child. I want to bottle everything and inject its life into my arms. But I know better, I already know it's what runs through my veins.
I'm lonely, Grandma says, matter-of-factly. Those 60 years, they went too fast. I miss him everyday.
She hugs the lil' dude around the neck and says to me, but these days, like this? These help. Thank you for coming for supper.