Friday….schools over….packing and loading car….Dad home from
work….squeezing in the backseat with the family….watching the miles go
by…trees, grass, farms, towns, other cars and trucks…streetlights coming
on…winding and curving black roads with the white lines reflecting in the
headlights….enclosed on the sides of the roads with tall trees….recognizing buildings
that say we are close…excitement building…looking for the Baxter farm, the “Leeches
For Sale” sign, Granary elevators where we turn, take the winding highway to
the Bruder farm….bark of a dog….getting out of the car in the dark….entering
the house from the back door, the familiar smell of barn, cows, and wood stove from
the coats in the mud room that will linger forever….quietly walking through the
house and heading upstairs, crawling in bed, hearing the cuckoo clock…sleep,
peaceful sleep…waking to the smell of voscht* frying for breakfast at Grandma
and Grandpa Bruder’s farm. We are in Long Prairie for the weekend and
surrounded by family.
This was a very frequent ritual for us as I grew up and when
I take this trip now these items and smells take me back to those memories.
These were wonderful times and there was no place that felt more like home to
me than the Bruder farm. It was the only consistent place in my life that did
not change.
*voscht was a breakfast sausage that my grandparents made
with deer, pork and spices then was smoked and I am not sure of the spelling.
