Perspective

Time changes everything. Every time I come back to the farm I'm starkly aware of this simple fact.
When I was little the farm was the biggest place I knew - I could explore all day & not have left the barn - I could stomp up to the woods & know that there were still more fields on the other side that were 'ours' - now I can run across it in ten minutes & most of the land is actually someone else's. My Grandparents were always there - now one of them is long gone & Nan is starting to fade - soon the farm will pass to my Aunt & then probably out of the family - a once huge part of my life will be gone.

When I was little these tracks, which run along the northern edge of the farm, were so so banned - I'd get a proper scolding if I even looked like I was heading in that direction. I can't say I can remember when they put the automated crossing gates in - but I can definitely remember having to actually look both ways, whilst firmly holding a grandparent with each hand, before crossing. Today in a full reversal of our roles I made the same journey to the village store which forty odd years ago would have been for sweets, to fetch my Nan's pension - a journey she now can't make herself.

In a moment of metaphor I thought how these tracks seem to go on forever - in reality the end of the line is only a short way away & the same is true for all of us I suppose.