Hello everybody! I have
answered my father’s request to write a few more blogs despite being 4.5 hours
away at Dordt College. I consider it somewhat of a reprieve from the usual college
workload that consists of economics, marketing research, and a seemingly
endless amount of papers that need to be written. In any event, I think that
cultivating thoughts and ideas for this blog is an easy task due to my love for
the farm and my home. Oh look! I just found my topic for this issue, that’s convenient.
In a couple of days, I
will make my third trip home of the semester. This may seem a bit excessive,
but when you have a fall break, your brother’s senior musical, and a friend’s
wedding to attend, the trips can pile up. Besides, it is a lot easier to go
home when there isn’t an entire ocean in your way. (I spent last semester
studying in the Netherlands.) Perhaps that is the reason I have looked forward
to every trip home these past few months.
There are so many
things to look forward to as you barrel down Interstate 29 and veer left onto
Interstate 80. I know that as soon as I get past Pella, my driving will be more
of habit than actual focus. I know that I am going to stop at Smokey Row, our
local coffee shop, for my usual drink. I know that I will be greeted at the
door by my beloved animals as well as a hug from my mother. And most
importantly, I know that I will sleep well in my bed that night.
However, coming back to
the farm carries more meaning than the physical things I can do while I am
there. Cruising around in an old work truck feels like a ride of nostalgia
through past summers of hard work. Conversations with my father or grandparents
show me how much I’ve grown and how much I’ve stayed the same. Shooting clay
pigeons and talking about school with my brothers takes me back to times that
seem far gone these days. And there is nothing better than listening to Gary
Dolphin and Ed Podolak on Saturdays as the Iowa Hawkeyes play (especially when
they’re beating Ohio State 55-24).
As I prepare to
graduate this coming May, my idea of home has become somewhat clouded. Dordt
has grown into the role of my current home, I hold most of my life there.
Despite that, my first home will always be the most important. I can sense it
when I return to it. I may not reside there very often, but a lot of it resides
in me – the lessons I learned from working on the farm, the memories made at the
grandparent’s house, the slight smile I get whenever I think of that white
house sitting at the end of our half-mile road. These are the things that I
know I will carry with me wherever my next leads. (Speaking of that next step,
if anyone knows of any good job opportunities, let me know!) Anyways, I guess
what I am trying to say is that returning home is something special, no matter
how many times I get to do it.
- Cory
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