The Home Place

&i \S¿ -SC;-*..- .^# .á^HM --'-'^,IUiTi'1''1 The Home Place by Freída Adíen The sadness and emptiness swamped Sarah as she sat down on the cold concrete steps. What was there about a Sunday that made her feel so all alone? The paint was beginning to peel in places, and the old two-story house needed a new roof. But what of it? This was her home, and Sarah loved it. The daffodils were beginning to peep through the brown grass by the front steps. Soon it would be spring, and with it should come a new zest for life. But everything was all wrong this year. She glanced at the nearby garden halfexpecting to see her daddy. Her mother should be in the kitchen preparing one of her delicious Sunday dinners. But her parents were gone-first her father, then her mother. She guessed losing loved ones was the price people pay for getting older, but she didn't think thirty-eight was any great age to be left alone. Oh, she wasn t all alone. She had a husband, two children, and a brother and his family. But the loss of her parents left a void that no one could ever fill. They had loved her unconditionally, had willingly given her their time, had left her with strong values and a good sense of right and wrong. She wondered if she were giving her own children those things. At any rate, she knew she wasn't doing as good a job as her parents had done. She was guilty of being caught up in the hustle and bustle of the world, too often never taking the time to sit down with her children and really listen to what they had to say. "I'm going to do better," she promised herself, not for the first time. 27 Tomorrow she and her brother were to decide what to do with the house and farm. She had grown up here. She didn't want to sell a thing. She wanted the house to stay just as it was. She wanted her mother and daddy here just like they had always been. Tears ran down her cheeks and she wiped them away with the back of her hand. It hurt to close the door on a way of life she could never have again. Her brother wanted to sell. He lived two hundred miles away, and there was no way he could help take care of the place. She and her husband, Bill, were no farmers. Bill wanted her to sell and take the money and pay off their own home mortgage. It would make it easier for them financially. But she loved this land. She wanted to see it nurtured and cared for the way her daddy had. She hadn't wanted her life to change, but it had, irrevocably. With a sigh, she stood and entered the house through the front door. Instantly memories flashed through her headSunday dinners, family get-togethers, birthdays, Christmases. Her parents had given her a wonderful life; not everyone was as lucky as she. But even good memories couldn't bring life to this old house again. If she could only move back-but that was out of the question. Her husband would never be happy here. She walked into her parents' bedroom and picked up one of her mother's Suilts-oh, such even, delicate stitches, istantly she was flooded with that allconsuming grief. She had to get out of here; she couldn't stand the pain any longer. She walked into the bright sunshine. Instantly she knew where she had to goto her refuge. There, even as a teenager, things seemed better. She walked up the road, through the pasture, to the top of the hill. There the land leveled out and could be farmed with a tractor. The Íianoramic view was gorgeous, and she bund herself always heing drawn to a knoll where she could see for miles and miles. In the distance the majestic Blue Ridge Mountains surrounded the area, and in the foreground were valleys, ridges, and adjoining farms. She had always wanted to build her dream house up...