I hadn't been back in three and a half years, until yesterday. I'd driven past many times, pointed it out occasionally, but hadn't visited. I'm not sure why. I'd spent more time there then with my family for two and a half years. I still refer to the time I was a farm girl. And by that I mean many long cold mornings milking cows. Yes, I was a farm hand once upon a time. I have changed so much since then.
The first thing was the smell. You would wrinkle your nose in distaste. And justifiably so. Entering the parlour was weird. Always wondered, why call it a parlour? It's far from classy or clean. It is much was as I remembered it. They have music now! Bernie brought me tea, Cheryl talked to me about politics, Doug explained the farm changes, Scott told me how he'd hit something on the tractor. It had been a long time, but these people were still the same farmers I loved.
I put on gloves and remembered so much more then I thought I would. I recognized one or two cows they still have, and many many more that I named when they were still cute and little. Visiting the new calf pens I let them suck on my fingers, like I always used to. I came home smelly and happy. There are things I miss.
I miss working outdoors, and the physicalness of the job. I miss being so good at what I do. I knew those cows backwards, every number, name and history just by looking at their feet. I was in charge of entire elements of the farm. I miss the morning sun as I left work, the people, and peacefully driving tractor for hours.
In short, I should've gone to visit on a winter morning shift when the machines broke down and I could remember working by myself for hours.