As we pack up this old Hacienda we’ve called home for the past seven months, I find it hard to not imagine all of the stories that have taken place within these walls and on this property.
As a piece of property surrounded by Native lands, one might imagine the sorrow, anger, displacement that may have (probably) occurred as outsiders made their way in and claimed this land as their own.
As an old Dude Ranch dating back almost 200 years, one might imagine the intensity of those who made their way to this place, tired and thirsty, longing for a bit of respite before heading on their way away from here.
Seven months out of 200 years out of the history of time…just drops in the Time Bucket, but the mind wanders through rooms and halls, through weeds and under trees, as pieces of history whisper about what has come before us in this place.
So, as I pack up our belongings in anticipation of our impending move even further north (we’re less than two weeks out now)…as I take art off the walls, wrap up valuables, leaf through photos, and think about the meals, celebrations, conversations, hopes and dreams that were shared here, I wonder what whispers of ourselves will be left in this place when we leave…