My family has always had a farm in some form. The original was a cattle farm where the baby cows were bigger than I was. I would name every single one, much to my grandpa's dismay (poor little me had no idea where they "went away" to). It was blissful and I knew nothing else. We eventually had to sell it because we were in the middle of other farms who were selling to a subdivision. As a 13-year-old it was heartbreaking and confusing.
(To clarify "we", my grandparents, my parents and I have always lived either on the same property or next door to one another).
The short and sweet rest of the story is--- we moved to a subdivision, but bought a property to keep horses on. It never really felt like the "right place". About a year ago, we found/bought a new farm that feels right and long-term.
I went away to college and after one too many Kentucky farm girl jokes, the fondness of my upbringing seemed to be clouded. The one thing that was most apart of me, I somehow now wanted to hide away.
So I've lived in the in-between for a while--- not mentioning or acknowledging how I felt, how I truly loved growing up on a farm, how magical that kind of childhood felt.
But now, I've realized it's a part of me. Something not to hide or be ashamed of admitting. A friend once asked me, "What was your first love?" My answer: space. When I'm stressed the only word I can think to describe it is claustrophobic, constantly looking for more space physically and emotionally. Our farm is the remedy.
This place-- my refuge for space.