That was the opening line in my journal tonight. And as I wrote, I just cried. And then I thought of the one place on earth where I always found peace and the one person who could always talk me out of a funk.
That place is dear to my heart, and yet it holds some good memories and some bad. I've written about "the farm" before. Tonight, I long to go on a drive with my dad and head to the farm. I long to tell him about my future plans and my dreams and the path I need to take to get there. I long to help him build his dream barn and talk till I'm blue in the face.
You see, dad was just so good at letting me talk. I could ask questions about anything and he would answer; sometimes we would discuss religion, sometimes politics, sometimes school, sometimes history. But it didn't matter. I could talk. And I would magically forget all the hard things and I would leave the farm happier than when I got there.
I miss those days. And tonight, how I wish that I could be there....
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