My Trip To The Farm
I wish I hadn't burned my journals. Could you image what those words would tell me now?Maybe it's a good thing. There are a lot of memories attached to this location. I vividly remember the spot my father shot the pig wrong and it suffered greatly until it’s throat was slit.
The bloated lambs dying until we punctured holes into their sides with a straw.
I remember the massive puddle that we jumped in for hours.
I remember standing there when strangers with guns showed up. I'm holding the baby and my sister is behind me holding my brothers hand. I remember real fear as those men jumped out of the truck and drunk they seemed to be. I remember feeling abandoned again because there was no one but me to get rid of them.
I remember holding the baby as she screamed and not understanding why it was just the kids home again and I didn't know how to stop it. I just wanted to throw her but I couldn't.
I remember the hurt as my parents drove off again and again and again. I have never felt true loneliness, abandonment, and fear as being stuck on these prairies. Granny's voice in my head, 'you will die here.' It sucks when you come to a place where you put a lot of blood, sweat and tears into fixing it up. A place that holds so many bad memories. Yet the people who were brought up here only talk about happy memories. During my visit here with no one but my head. I can see that all the hard work has been for nothing. None of it stands today. It is the same as the very first time I saw the place. A hell hole in the sun.