ferns from the homestead

And The Earth Under Our Feet

Your generation is far more in touch with themselves than we were. Young girls today have choices ahead of them, that I would imagine can be overwhelming. Certainly, my generation of girls was never a very active bunch, in terms of sports. It was frowned upon.

Those Great Granddaughters of mine are becoming such strong, capable young ladies. Hockey was a good choice for them, I can see it has had a wonderful effect. Both are far more confident than either you or your sister were at that age.

My generation did our children a disservice somewhere along the line because I don’t ever recall even considering more active sports for your Mom. Majorettes was as sporty as it came, in the 50’s. Such a shame, as so many girls, would have flourished, and perhaps made better choices.

That once husband of yours was a good example of what happens to the next generation when girls are not taught to respect themselves. They make bad choices, and keep making them, and end up with sons who lack confidence in themselves; as charming as he could be.

Your helium sphere days, though, Paula, are behind you. Keep them there. You did your best, and you are not to blame, for any of it. Neither of you was.

Onwards and upwards.

Before I forget, I do not care about those negatives. Or those trinkets and such that got lost in your storage. Leave them behind you. Those were things, and you managed to copy the best of the negatives, so no more anxiety. Your boyfriend, Tim, and all his malarkey, I suppose he did end up paying the final price, in the end.

I always said, liars never prosper.

Enough on that. Another thing I had wanted to mention, you have felt so hurt that your last words to me were in anger. You could be a rather saucy teenager, much like the rest of your generation. It was just unfortunate I had to die the next day.

A good lesson, to watch your words. You were such a sweet child, yet you could certainly pitch a fit when you felt you’d been slighted. That’s your pride, and there is nothing wrong with having some, but don’t cling to it.

At 76, I had lived a good life. I have no regrets.

I decided to write to you because there were things I left behind that I want you to know are of value.

The most important things I left behind were you and Lexi, and those Great Granddaughters.

Everything else, the Homestead, the green velvet settee (and yes, it was from your Grandfathers family). Even the Hoosier Cabinet. All that we kept for all those generations, they are but things. They are, and never were, more precious than people.

Never forget that. Neither of you.

Do not be afraid to leave some things behind. Some things need to be left behind us. People too. Learn the lesson, move on.

And one other thing, I am so pleased you finally transplanted those ferns from The Homestead at your new place. Nice to see a piece of your Great Aunt Jen there with you. She would be proud you garden. You come from a long line of green thumbs.

Your sister missed some of it, but she nurtures in a different way than you.

I did love my vegetable garden, and I took care to make sure you both had some of that fresh from the garden that I enjoyed as a young girl. It is important.

I am glad you found that Organic Gardening book of mine. I wanted you to have it. In a way, it was our generation those hippies I think were trying to bring back in the 1960’s. That is something you need to share more of, those gardening skills you have acquired. That knowledge of yours is valuable, and it is good to know how to prosper with less. I see it is another inheritance and has value.

Must go now. I will write again. And do eat more greens. You do not get enough.


Comments or Otherwise

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.