The farm is old, beautiful and starting to become run-down. It once raised emu, then quail, then Jack Russel terriers, and now cattle. Strawberries, blueberries, blackberries, peaches, and tree saplings grow in even rows. The peach trees are just beginning to bloom--pink--sakura.
Her grandparents are sweet, small-town people who have spent their lives on the land. They know everything about everyone. Her grandfather asked me if I was married yet, the moment I walked in. Her grandmother insisted I come back and have some catfish as we left.
We drove around the farm with her sisters, bouncing through soggy ruts, climbing through brambles, and then we teased the black cows and brown velveteen calf.
After some quality time and teasing from Uncle Nelson, I went back outdoors alone. I wandered the berry rows up and down. I left my shoes and barefooted through the new baby grass.
The place was a sanctuary, with no sense of time or the impending thermo midterm. I felt as though I'd been there forever, relaxed and joyful, in just one afternoon. I feel good, for the first time in many long months.
Today, the wind is cold and the sky is overcast. Time to return to real life.
Where is your sanctuary?