I am the fourth generation to call this farm home. My children are the fifth. Generations ago there were animals, milk production and no such thing as phones much less blogs. Two generations ago there were three brothers and a sister who worked the same fields I do. The floors in the house I live in were once tiptoed on at 3 am for morning milkings at the dairy farm. There was work and there was hard work. Even though my daddy made me help on the farm growing up, I don't know half about the hard work that came before me. Defining characteristics of a generation come and gone. What will be said of me, the farmer's daughter?
We get to not be defined but we get to leave it behind. We tear down what we boarded up. We let the sun come in. We get ready for new life. We open up to what we shut out.
And maybe we dream a little about being not the farmer's daughter but the farmer. Maybe we start a new chapter. Maybe just maybe we open the door to something new.