Page 53 of Silver Lining Love

When Dolly first told us about the love affair, I figured she was exaggerating, but it was real. The second the two of them saw each other it was like out of the movies. They ran towards one another, and cartoon hearts practically floated above their heads. I’d taken a photo of it and, with Dolly’s permission, posted it on Instagram and captioned it ‘True Love.’ It was the first post I’d put up since the accident and I had no clue if my followers would even care, but the engagement had been overwhelming.

I snapped another picture on my phone of the lovebirds and posted it to my story and added Whitney Houston’sI Will Always Love Youto the slide. As I hit share, I felt a little bit more like myself than I had since the night my entire life changed. Two posts in one day. To most people, that wouldn’t mean anything. But social media had been my entire identity for a decade.

The walk to the north field was peaceful and only took a few minutes.

“Good job!” I heard Walker’s voice boom as I approached the wooden fence.

In the distance, I saw Wyatt and his father watching as Mikey drove a tractor. A real tractor. It was huge, and my nephew looked so small in it. Even from this distance, I could see the concentration on his face as he drove it. As Wyatt looked on, I could see the pride in his face as he watched Mikey.

I decided not to interrupt their time. Mikey didn’t need me hovering. But I couldn’t resist pulling out my phone and taking a video of it. I knew that Mikey would want to watch it and relive his time on the farm.

On the way back to the house, I snapped several more pictures. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d taken photos just for fun, not for content. It felt nice to be creative without the pressure of it having anything to do with my job. I’d always loved photography. That was what had originally started my brand. I used to shoot videos of myself going places and taking photos. I named my channel Whitney in the Wild because I was photographing concrete jungles.

I felt like I was coming back to my roots, myself, even though I’d never lived here before. For some reason, this place felt like home. It felt more like home to me than any place I’d ever lived. I was already dreading going back to D.C. and I’d been in Wishing Well less than four hours.

24

WYATT

“You can’t change the direction of the wind, but you can change your sails to make sure you end up at the right destination.” ~ Gamma Mary

The sun was startingto set on the horizon as I watched my dad instruct Michael on the tractor. He was such a natural you would have thought he’d been raised on a farm. Everything my dad showed him, he took to like a fish to water. Michael wasn’t my son, but somehow seeing him doing so well driving the heavy equipment inspired unearned pride to swell in my chest.

The only time I’d been back to town over the past few decades had been for my siblings’ weddings or the occasional holiday. Normally, my trips consisted of showing up either the day of or the day before the nuptials or celebration and leaving the day after. I hadn’t been out in the field with my father since before I moved away at eighteen.

Growing up on the farm had given me a sense of responsibility and molded my work ethic. Some of my best childhood memories had been working side by side with my dad and older brother Sawyer. They’d been the most influential men in my life. I’d witnessed both my father and older brother work when they were bone tired, and neither ever complained. They just got the job done. It had shaped the man I am today in ways I hadn’t even realized until that moment.

My internal musings were interrupted when the dinner bell rang out. The sound caused nostalgia to fill me. I couldn’t count the number of times I’d been out in the fields and heard it ring. My dad motioned for Michael to cut the engine. His face dropped as he climbed down off the tractor.

“Do we have to stop?” he asked.

My dad reached out and ruffled Michael’s hair, the same way he had to me and my brothers countless times. “Yeah, kid. It’s dinner time.”

Michael’s shoulders dropped in defeat, but as he jogged toward me, his expression brightened. “Did you see me, Wyatt?”

“I did! You were killin’ it.”

As the three of us made our way back to the house, Michael glanced between my dad and me. “Can we come back out after dinner?”

“Not tonight,” my dad shot down his request. “But I’ll be up bright and early if you want to come out then.”

“Yes!” Michael enthused to my dad before turning his head to me. “You are so lucky that you got to grow up here!”

My dad’s eyes met mine, and a silent moment passed between us. He knew, better than most, that I hadn’t really enjoyed my time on the farm. It wasn’t the work itself, or the smells of barnyard animals, or the long hours that had bothered me. It was the noise inside the house, the mess of having so many people living under one roof, and the lack of any sort of privacy.

Growing up, I loved reading, everything being in order, and quiet. Those were three things that were nearly impossible to enjoy on the farm with eight siblings. By the time I was Michael’s age, I played several sports just to get away from this place. As soon as I was old enough, I moved away and didn’t come back.

Seeing the farm through Michael, Alice, and Whitney’s eyes had given me an entirely different perspective. Academically, I knew why I hadn’t enjoyed being here. But emotionally, I was feeling guilty for not appreciating it as much as I should have.

“Wash your hands!” my mom called out from the dining room when she heard the back screen door shut.

My dad and Michael both walked over to the kitchen sink, so I decided to head down the hall to the half bath. After cleaning up, I was on the way back to the kitchen when I heard Whitney in my dad’s den.

“You are such a handsome, happy boy, aren’t you?”

Benji babbled back to her.

“Yes, you are. Auntie Whitney loves you so much.”

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