Patrick and I went to Illinois to visit my family. I have never lived in Illinois, but my blood runs deep with corn, soybeans and prairie grass filled plains. My dad’s entire side of the family lives in a small town named Heyworth, Illinois. This place is magical and very special to me. My memory works in strange ways, and I only remember snippets of my childhood spent at the family farm. I recall things such as: red popsicles on Grandma’s front porch in the hot and humid summer air, new baby kittens, creaky screen doors and giggle ridden cousin slumber parties, being 3 feet tall in the towering corn fields, crystallized nose hairs, frozen eyeballs and ice fishing, Grandpa making fresh Indian corn popcorn cured from the fields, learning to knit with Grandma; but most of all I remember pure and simple love and happiness. This kind of happiness cannot be synthesized, it is raw and real. This is the kind of happiness that Patrick and I just experienced. My heart is filled to the brim with love and kindness, but the edges are outlined in a sort of melancholy sadness. My family is too far away, and I miss them.
Days are precious and so are people, so shouldn’t our days be filled with the ones we love and cherish?
Although I did not come home with one single pheasant, quail or chukar that I shot, I did come home a more masterful hunter. I know where to find love so thick it runs like maple syrup. I know where to find warmth when I am cold. And I know where to find honest to goodness peace and kindness that fills my soul full to the brim.
I hope each of you have a family to share love and kindness with. xx