Feb 02

Family Farm

“Are we there yet?” I asked, trying not to sound whiny.
    “Yes, hon. We’re almost there. Oh! I'm so excited! I haven't been here in forever!” My mother replied, enthusiasm clear in her voice, “You know the story of this old house, yeah? Or do you want us to tell it to you again?”
    “No. Please don’t. We’ve only heard it about three hundred times.” We said.
I was in the car with my cousin, Katie, my sister, Emma, and my mother. My nana and my aunt Jen were in the other car. We were on our way to the old family farmhouse where my Opa grew up. He’s gone now, but this was a fun way to picture what his life might’ve looked like when he was a little boy. My mom and aunt also spent lots of time up at their grandparent's house as little kids, so this place was near and dear to their hearts. As we pulled into the gravel driveway, the farm looked very run down and abandoned, for nobody lived here or looked after the buildings anymore. We all hopped out of the car and looked around to take it all in.
“Shall we go into the house first?” My mom asked after my nana and aunt Jen had arrived behind us. My nana nodded and pulled out the keys.
As we walked into the house, we first came into the kitchen. It was bright and cheery, sunlight streaming in from the big window. We all removed our shoes and went into the living room, where everything smelled like dust. There was a picture book lying open, and we spent hours looking at those old photos. In the next room over, which looked kind of like a lounge room, there was a very large loom, which would’ve been used by my great-grandmother.
When we stepped into the hallway, we finally got the feeling that this house wasn’t used anymore. The walls were peeling a little, and the old floral wallpaper was yellow and fading. We slowly crept up the creaky stairs, and my mom showed us the kids room. As my mom told us old stories of pranking her cousins when she was here, you could tell she was nostalgic. We went up the staircase that led to a tower above it, and there was writing all over the walls, which was really cool. My mom could remember what some of them meant, and even writing some of them, but some were lost to memory.
Creeping slowly back down both sets of stairs, we stumbled upon an empty room with an old washing machine. This may not seem important, but this is where we found my great-grandmother's wedding dress. It was a light shade of green, with a long flowy skirt, and a shawl to go along with it. It fit my sister best, as she was the tall, skinny one of us. Wearing the dress gave the impression that I had some sort of connection with this place, and I could picture my opa as a little boy, running around these halls, causing mischief.

 
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