This weekend my brother and sister-in-law invited a houseful of young friends from the city down to our old family farm. The farm house has stood vacant for a decade-- furniture, piles of old books and dishes sitting unused, mirrors reflecting only the shifting sunlight. The sudden hurrah must have been an alarming and hopeful breath of life for the lonely place-- the ecstatic promise of a new thread for an ancient ghost, tired of it's own memories.
For my brother and I there were lots of happy things to rediscover: old mugs serving their purpose again by offering steamy Brazilian coffee up to whiskey-weary young mouths, the aluminum tumblers that kept drinks extra cold in our little hands once again quenching sweaty heads with sips of well water, the tiny plastic cup we used as toddlers now held by my own little ones, the old cuckoo clock in the den still standing watch over it's old territory.
Then there were new memories made: friends laughing and congregating in all the forgotten spaces, lazing in the rolling lawns and around grills and campfires, napping in the hammock, filling porches and gardens with stories and camaraderie, playing music to fill the sleepy walls with new energy, gobbling heaps of amazing food made together, happy puppies lazing about.
What a beautiful thing to reinvigorate an old home, to honor an old friend by allowing them to come alive again. I'm certain our grandparents were watching from afar, laughing along with us and delighting in all the fun. I can't wait for all the lovely times to come!
