I knew gong back to The Farm would be hard.....and it was. Our first time back since my cousin's funeral. But we wanted to visit with her husband, Rob, and really love the place. So on our way south to hunt for spring we planned to stop.
Driving down the long gravel road and up the hill to the farmhouse the memories flooded back. It was like ripping a bandaid off a wound.....the grief came roaring in. But it wasn't as raw as it was before.....so maybe time did provide a little solace.
Our first evening we enjoyed time with Rob, hugs, smiles, a good soup supper, Claudia-as-farmer's-wife stories, laughter and a few lump-in-the-throat moments. It was good for all three of us....sitting around the kitchen table.
The next day the guys drove into Corydon to do some errands and have lunch. I stayed by myself and puttered around Claudia's kitchen. I cooked some pasta, emptied the dishwasher, hard boiled some eggs. I found a broom and swept the dead sticks, leaves and seeds off the deck and the porch. I watered a few plants and cut off their dead leaves.
I looked at the unfinished watercolor paintings on my cousins painting table in the sunroom, I sat in her chair and read a book.
And I hated every minute. She should be here.....I wanted her smiling face to come through the door and say "Come on, time to take the dogs for their morning walk!" I wanted to see her moving around her kitchen fixing one of her fresh from the farm garden-to-table side dishes. I wanted her to say, with a laugh, "Seriously Cousin Linnea!"
It will always be Claudia's kitchen......her spirit inhabits every inch of that farm.....especially the kitchen.
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