A Passing

I’ve written about where I live several times before.  When we moved here 34 years ago we were two city kids with three children under five, soon to have another on the way, and knew pretty much nothing about rural life.

One thing we learned right away, you’re considered a neighbor even when you live several miles away.  The first neighbors we met lived in three households, elderly parents in one home and their two adult sons and their son’s families in two other homes. 

Now 34 years later, today we learned the last son passed away.  And so today I can’t help but think of all that family meant to my family through the years.  Mrs. Finch, a surrogate grandmother to my children, spending hours with them playing games and telling stories.  From her, my children learned the history of their home.  And then her grandchildren, while all older than mine, were kind to also be playmates to my children.

This extended family was something we aspired to be one day.  We dreamt how one day it would be our family growing and spreading out across the area, remaining neighbors.  Unfortunately, that didn’t happen.  All of our children chose to move to the city to raise their families. 

Now I look out at this beautiful place where I live and I know that much how the places we’ve lived become a part of us, in that same way I’m sure this place remembers all those who lived, grew, loved and moved on from this place.  And not only are we sad today but so is this place.