March 10

When I'd first gotten the idea to move in with my grandma Mae following my grandfather's death, I hadn't expected to move here so quickly. Growing up, I spent weeks here every summer staying with them at their farm. I remember baking peanut butter cookies in the kitchen, picking ripe vegetables in the field, and milking cows in the barn.

The bus ride from the city where I'd been attending college was uneventful, not many passengers heading in this direction, especially at this time of year. When I arrived at the bus stop, my grandma wasn't waiting there like I had been expecting.

"Abby!" A cheery faced older gentleman with balding grey hair greets me with a warm smile as I step off the bus, it's door promptly closing shut behind me as it rolls along to the next town along the route.

I shield my eyes from the harsh sunshine as I try to recognize the friendly gentleman.

"Your grandma Mae called and asked me to meet you, she's come down with an unfortunate cold and I always ask after you since I met you chasing frogs in the town square. So I hear you stopped going to college at the beginning of term?" The man rambles with a glint in his eye before he turns suddenly and begins walking down the side of the road with an unexpected pep in his step.

I hoist my heavy pack higher and follow in earnest, I struggle to remember his name, but in my memory I can picture him wearing a badge or pin on his suit coat. His hair was just as thin on top, but around the sides it used to have more dark hair interspersed throughout. "Mr. Rutledge, isn't it?" I finally manage.

He laughs loudly and pats my shoulder, "That's right, kiddo! Now stop dodging the question, what were you goin' to school fer anyhow?"

I relax once I make a connection to my fuzzy memories of past visits, "Marketing, I withdrew from the semester because grandpa was sick, and now I'm glad I did."

A somber mood fell over us both and we transitioned to chatting about the town and weather until we arrived at the wooden arch leading away from the road. Mossy Stone Farm has been home to my family for generations, and now it includes me, at least for this year.