This would be the last Christmas on our land. The land where we had chopped firewood, planted trees, dug a pond, raised various animals, and pulled weeds out of a huge garden. In a few months, when the trees, weeds, and cornfields would be full and green, we would move 15 miles away to a city of 13,000 people. For now, it was still business a usual, opening gifts on a cold December morning.
Like many toys from the era, this Ford tractor was mostly metal and could have easily doubled as a weapon—I had it for many, many years. Also, notice the large white Bible on the TV—we had it for many, many years as well.
I also got my first typewriter that Christmas; I guess my interest in writing goes way back.
It’s easy to take a place for granted—I’ve done it several times in my life. Growing up in a small city had its advantages, however, part of me still longed to return to rural living. Keep in mind that while the grass may actually be greener on the other side, it’s probably not as brown under your feet as you think.