Grandpa would often remind us
"You know, land is always a good investment because that's the only thing they aren't making any more of. "
When you visit the farm, the first thing you encounter is the driveway. It’s long, straight, and serene. It’s as if you’re surprised it exists. And yet it does. The pecan trees lining each side lead you slightly up hill to the circular drive around the house. When I was a kid, coming up that driveway the first time each visit seemed to take forever. I remember when the trees were small. It’s taken a long time for them to grow tall.
Most of my earliest memories were formed at the farm. My siblings, cousins, and I all came to know it as the greatest place on earth. In our minds, it couldn’t be topped. It seemed to be an endless summer with spontaneous swimming, fishing, and cold Coca-cola.
We’d stay up late each night watching TV in Grandpa and Grammy’s bed while he peeled apples and fed us candy he had stashed in closets and his wardrobe. “Junk,” he called it.
We never wanted to leave.
"The greatest place on Earth."