Never having set up permanent residency at the popular table, I am not what some would call “slang savvy.” So, making a play on a rock song is about as cool as this girl’s probably going to get for titles. By the way, I am SO rocking out to some Aerosmith today as I can up massive amounts of green beans. Massive, I tell you. That doesn’t mean that I haven’t crawled into my head… back to The Farm and the ponds there. Sometimes I torture myself and imagine what it would be like to simply walk to the lower pond and write my posts there. Or wash and snap the barrels of green beans in my grandmother’s kitchen with its deep sinks and mountain views.
I hadn’t realized how often I’d discussed The Farm with Josh until last night as we stood in our little country kitchen surrounded by bubbling jars of just-from-the-canner collard greens enjoying the warm fragrance of a southern classic. We snapped beans and chatted about our dream house and farm. Josh mentioned that he would like to rebuild my grandparents’ house. That’s right. Follow their plans and recreate their house only on our own farm in Kentucky/Tennessee. Did I mention that I am madly in love with my husband?
Of course, we would make some changes. More bedrooms, bigger kitchen, and less Harvest Gold & shag carpet. Definitely minus the shag carpet. The more we talked about it, the more I realized that we would, in fact, like nothing better than to be able to show our children their (my grandparents) house and The Farm. Since that is not an option, having elements of that house in our future home only makes sense. My deep love for my grandfather translated into my husband’s love for him. What a beautiful notion. Because of my intense love of those who are not living, they have become real to someone else. I must now read the Velveteen Rabbit again.
Who is kept alive by your love?