Ancestoral Jolt

It is the

blustery grey,

cold wind

with drizzle late March

keep the wool sweater on,

am I in Ireland,

kind of day.

Off on the hill,

the old majestic mansion of a

beaten down farmhouse

overlooking a massive expanse of rolling hills,

we feel like we flew to the homeland.

I look in your eyes as we

scan each room with memories flooding,

ripped down wallpaper,

falling antique plaster,

breath taking windows,

amazing high ceilings,

grand sliding doors coming out

of the walls,

Italian marble fire place,

absolutely gorgeous.

We can hear the laughter

of a happy time of homesteading,

the smell of a  hot beef barley soup and

warm bread in the oven.

Ten years of work to do

on weekends

to return this beauty to her

original state,

centuries have already passed.

Time moves faster,

so do the geese in V formation,

soaring above,

and the wind keeps blowing,

our roots are planted deep to the core

as we stand on the fir porch

breathing in love,

breathing out fear.

I know

we have been here before.


About Susan

I am a gutsy, single mom of four in southeastern MN on the great Mississippi River. I love to create a life of passion, I am an eternal optimist and a freak for wellness, local foods movement, all sorts of musical genres, nature, bikes, dancing, writing, art, and funny people .
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1 Response to Ancestoral Jolt

  1. Photodiction says:

    I like how the rebuilding of the home evokes memories of different times in the past. We constantly re-build, don’t we, whether it be our homes, our lives, our relationships, or our daily dreams.

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