Going Home

Pictures had never done the old family farmhouse justice. None of them had ever managed to completely capture the elegance of the decrepit building, learning slightly to the left as if ready to collapse back into the ground it had been created from. The trees and mountains loomed in the background. Their ageless facades seemed untouched in comparison with the house. The once bright white paint had faded, revealing the wood that had been used for siding underneath. Yet, none of them remembered it this way. None of the family, the descendants left to care for the property, had ever thought of the building as decrepit or defunct.

In fact, Catherine’s memories were in stark contrast to the images in the faded photographs from her mother’s album. It had been a long day, cleaning and sorting the items left behind, and the photo album had come as a pleasant surprise. Seated tightly beside her husband, legs innocently touching, she flipped through the old images, memories flooding her unabated. “We still own the farm,” she commented absently. “I haven’t thought about that place in years. I used to go every summer, as a child, to spend time with my grandmother and uncle. I think his oldest still lives on the property.” 

It had been so long since the woman had any contact with this side of the family, but her mother was gone now. The funeral had been a couple weeks prior ending with a blur of a family dinner. Charlotte believed that particular cousin had been in attendance, but she couldn’t be sure. So many of the faces blurred together, creating a haze surrounding the entire day. Her grief, the sense of loss, had consumed everything else. “Well, I’m sure we can reach out to them. That is, if you want to go,” Andrew stated. He was good for that, pulling solid forms from her unorganized thoughts. They had gotten more unbound lately, as though she were spiraling into a foreign place with no control. 

“I’d like that, I think. It would be good for you to get to know more of my family.” In truth, Cat wanted to go for herself. When she had left her home at eighteen she hadn’t foreseen it would be the last time she returned before her mother’s funeral, but her husband’s career in the Air Force had taken them all over. Most of her recent years had been spent in Germany or in California, both a long way from the small town in Kentucky she had been raised. In truth, for the thirty three year old, it seemed like a lifetime ago; something out of a story rather than her own life.

He nodded, shifting slightly away from her. “We’ll make the call in the morning, but we both need some rest.” She watched him stand, a small sigh escaping at the loss of contact. Of course she knew she needed sleep, but wasn’t sure it would come. Still, Catherine followed him up to the guest room, shutting the last of the lights off as she went. 

Over the course of the following two weeks plans were made to visit the farm, the rest of the house was packed into boxes, remnants of the life her mother had lived neatly stored to be transported to their new home, and the house was put on the market. Cat felt accomplished if not a little stunned at the amount of work they had accomplished. She was sipping the cup of hotel coffee, staring at their shared iPad at the documents the realtor they had hired had emailed them. Nothing was urgent, but she couldn’t stop the tear that escaped.

“I thought you wanted to sell,” Andy said quietly and she could hear the concern in his voice. They had been together long enough to know each other fully, the micro-expressions that haunted their faces. 

“I do. It’s just hard. Is the car loaded?” 

“Yeah. Just need you to finish up and we’re ready to head to the farm.”

Cat felt herself nod, and clicked the iPad off. There were far too many documents to read through right now. They were only about a half hour from the far and she would need her full attention on directing her husband to a place she hadn’t seen since she was a little girl. There was a nervous energy to her at the thought, the longing that crept up. These were her two worlds meeting, truly, for the first time and there was a tension to it she hadn’t expected.

The drive was slow going, the winding lanes confusing even if one knew the way by heart. For an outsider, it was treacherous. They arrived a half hour late, the frustration replacing the nerves. Finally, the sight of the house came into view and Catherine couldn’t stop her hand from flying up to cover her mouth. It was exactly how she remembered it. The sun was directly overhead, revealing the chipping paint and worn looking steps. She could feel tears sting the corner of her eyes. For a place she had only ever visited in the summers, it felt like home. 

The call of her cousin’s startled her from her thoughts and she found herself smiling at their waving forms. Once the car was parked they stepped from the car only to be swarmed. A giggle escaped her lips as the children asked them who they were and why they were there - too many questions to even begin to answer - while the adults tried to usher them away. “Thank you for having us,” Catherine said. The typical anxiety and awkwardness she felt had completely disappeared. This was home. It was a sense she couldn’t describe, but it was one she liked. 

“Of course. You’re welcome anytime. That’s what families do. Let’s get your bag inside and let ya’ll get settled,” Barry said, nodding to the oldest of the children to grab a bag and carry. “Your welcome to come anytime.”