Thursday, August 18, 2022
When I was a little girl, I recall following my Grandfather around, I lived with my grandparents for a time, and those memories will forever be etched in the fiber of my thoughts.
I loved him dearly. He was hard working and a quiet man, a dedicated family man.
I would say he was more comfortable observing the goings on around him than being part of family gatherings, I always knew where to find him though, usually in the cellar having a beer and chatting with his sons or others.
I wrote a poem in memory of my Grandparents and I do feel it is the perfect time to share it here. This is how I have always seen the home that holds so many memories for me.
Grampa you will be deeply missed by me. (Poem will follow)
Swinging Farmhouse Door (Then and Now)
Christmas on my grandparents' farm was
filled with family, friends and merriment
childhood winter's, where snow was plentiful
where sleigh rides were a right of passage.
This old farmhouse was everything to me
you see...
My grandfather and my uncle built
this house with their blood, sweat and tears
It sheltered six baby girls and five baby boys
three small rooms, no bathroom, but an outhouse
a kitchen warmed by the continuous glow of a woodstove
The house wasn't much but
what made it special, was the memories
a perfect blend of laughter and tears.
I can still picture my, Grandmother sitting near
the woodstove with a babe in her arms
while Grandad rested on a chair near its hearth
while older grandchildren milled about
The farmhouse door was reminiscent of a
Saloon door, there was always people
coming or going
I recall the smell of cedar trees
baked goods were always on display
no matter the season or Holiday
homemade jams fresh apple cider spiced to perfection.
Those perfect holidays have long been
forgotten, no more merriment around
the woodstove
No longer does family gather to celebrate
any occasion, no more family outings to hunt
for the perfect Christmas tree.
This old farmhouse still stands tall on
the hill where I and my cousins played
long gone are the aromas of baked goods
and the scent of cedar trees, and the magical
glow, of the woodstove
But... in the silence, I can still feel the presence
of my Grandparents, the laughter and the tears
through the years
for I will never forget about the
swinging farmhouse door.
R.I.P Grampa, Until we meet again...
Love you for all eternity your granddaughter Carrie (Little Norma) XO
