Memories

My uncle is carrying on the tradition.  I never realized how amazing farm fresh eggs are.  When my grandparents passed away, my uncle took on the farm and has slowly built up some chickens.  He sells brown eggs for $1.50 a dozen.  I get the family discount ($1 and sometimes even free)!

Tonight, I ran out to the farm and instantly my brain is flooded with memories of spending time there as a child.  The stones that line the entry way to the door.  Tracing my hands over those rocks, waiting for my mom to say good-bye.  Rolling down the hill (it was monstrous as a child and now I wonder why it's so small) to the garden.  Picking green beans in the gigantic garden.  Jumping over the cement valleys near the barn, imagining creepy, crawly monsters below.  Walking the asphalt driveway with my grandma.  But my favorite memory is when we left.

Three honks when we were leaving the driveway.  Always.  Three.  I love you.  Another chance to say it.  In case something happened before we got another chance to say it.

It's a tradition I carry on now to my family.  Leaving my mom's.  Leaving my dad's.  Leaving my sister's.  Leaving my grandpa.

And today.  Leaving the farm.  It's tradition...I have to do it.

So, readers, if I ever honk at your house three times...you'll understand why and hopefully you'll feel the love in the honks.