A little weekend introspection from a quick solo Saturday drive while out visiting my mother on December 9, 2017.
This was taken on the land where my father grew up. I never met my grandfather, he died of cancer before I was born. My father never spoke of him in good terms. By all accounts he was not much of a human being. My grandmother lived there for many years after, a first cousin lives there now. The house on the property is not livable, my cousin lives in a mobile home on the land. On rare occasions I drive past just to see it. I have not felt any connection to the place in years.
This was taken on the land where my father grew up. I never met my grandfather, he died of cancer before I was born. My father never spoke of him in good terms. By all accounts he was not much of a human being. My grandmother lived there for many years after, a first cousin lives there now. The house on the property is not livable, my cousin lives in a mobile home on the land. On rare occasions I drive past just to see it. I have not felt any connection to the place in years.
A few miles almost due east is a cemetery. My father died in 1997 and his ashes are in British Columbia. There is a marker for him in the cemetery even though he is not there. I drove over there and spent a few minutes. Hard to imagine he has been gone twenty years.
My sister and I spent the weekend with mom for her birthday. We did some cleaning and organizing before we left. I managed to stick my sister with the dishes. It was a good visit. Mom, like any mother, can be difficult. I kid about visiting her and staying in the will simply because I have sense of humour that leans that way. There are times I do not enjoy driving over three hours to visit however life is not always about us, a lot of it is about doing the right thing and making others happy.
Bales of hay on a snow covered field are simple, families ... not so simple sometimes.
ReplyDelete"life is not always about us, a lot of it is about doing the right thing and making others happy"
ReplyDeleteTruer words were never spoken.
Well said, BW. We moms know we can be difficult, but if we are really lucky, we have grown children who love us anyway and go the extra mile to make us happy.
ReplyDeleteAnd we have friends who treat us to occasional photos of hay bales. :)
Hay bales resting in a snowy field, before continuing their journey.
ReplyDeleteKnew you were a good man, by your words and deeds.
I look at the bales and think of the red fox (and maybe coyotes) that inspect them at night.
ReplyDeleteYou do see them during the day. Getting a photo is another matter.
DeleteGoddammitalltohell.
ReplyDeleteYannow I walk into church and it's 50/50 whether I get a speechin' that kicks the stuffing outta me from the preachers. Then I come over here in hopes of picking on the slow kids - and I get a beating again!
I would love to murder my mother in the most painful and inhumane manner possible - but I am going to have my Dad's memory to answer to shortly and anything I do has to sit well with him or I will catch the very hell of it either in this world or the next. Ya don't trifle with Pop especially where Mom is concerned.
BW I don't know how to be good to my mother AND myself too. The old women in my family are utter shrews, there's no nice way to say it.
Darn it - I might need a DOUBLE hay bale post. And maybe a scotch after that...
It ain't easy.
DeleteIt isn't easy keeping family happy...but in the long run you'll be glad you did. Great hay balees!!!
ReplyDelete