While backpacking my way through Europe, I came across the remnants of a farmstead near the border region between Belgium and Germany.
It saddened me to think of of the loss of love and laughter, of productivity and growth. There once had been a family here, a child’s broken toy lay among the wreckage of the farm equipment.
Birds in the trees provide the only sound as I approach the stone structure that once housed the farmer’s family. Just as my hand reaches for latch on the stout wooden door, a torn curtain flaps through a window left open stopping me in my tracks. Could this be a warning not to enter or an invitation to “come on in”?
Maybe today is not the day for me to pay my respects to the memories within this stone cottage? I take a step back and smile. “Blessings and good will, to those who once lived here,” I shout before turning back towards the road onto the next part of my journey.