This past weekend Shannon and I drove the 4.5 hours south to my hometown in Pennsylvania for my mom's 70th birthday dinner. I haven't been back to my hometown, or my parent's home, in over a decade. It's because of complicated reasons you can learn more about in my next book, but to summarize: family drama, politics, anxiety, and fear. Those four things can destroy a family, or in our case, strain it to the point of nearly cutting off a limb. This past weekend in PA was a big personal step for me and for the farm.
There weren't any severed limbs (literally or figuratively) but there was a whirlwind of travel and celebration and trusting the farm in the hands of friends again, something that has taken me years to accept and do. And the dinner around my childhood table, in the big house on an avenue in a small town: healing and magical. There was no arguments or fighting, just a bunch of Woginriches and their significant others sharing a big meal and cake around a table, swapping gifts, and laughing. After dinner we sat around the porch with candlelight and conversation. It felt really, really, good. I never would have thought I could bring a girl home to meet my parents and she would be accepted with such love and kindness. Not because my parents are homophobic or anything, but because I never thought I would allow myself to be open to love. I never thought I wouldn't be alone. People can change. Wounds can heal. Conversations can start fresh. It takes courage though. More than I ever thought I could muster just a few hard years ago.
Fortune favors the brave.