I was showing our guests in the Shepherds Cottage around the farm…We were in the shop…As we chatted I looked down at the concrete floor…
There were pits in the concrete where Daddy had worked on equipment 40 plus years ago…And for a few minutes I was standing there and could see the sparks from the welder and the hear the clang of the tools as he worked on his bulldozer. I could smell the oil, gas and diesel fuel in the shop. I looked round the floor and remembered the many times I had swept the floor (and all the complaining I had done because of it) …
My guests commented on the building being strong and sturdy and how I was lucky…I could barely hear them speak for all the noise in my mind and the work going on…I looked around at the floor and for a moment I could all most hear Daddy’s voice… and then I was back in the moment…
Each generation takes what the last generation leaves them and then builds their dreams on the foundations laid for them…sometimes it is the same dream…or an entirely different dream…But the voices, sights, sounds, smells lay waiting to be remembered by those still here.
