One of my favorite places to go is my Aunt Judy’s farm. Ever since I was a little girl, we would take trips to Aunt Judy’s house. We would get in the car, and drive for 14 hours. I would patiently take potty breaks, and food breaks with the anticipation of turning down that long rocky driveway. When I knew we were within miles, I would close my eyes and wait. Then I would feel it. My body would start the rock-jiggle. I would feel those tiny white rocks toss and turn underneath the tires of my dad’s truck. My heart would pound with excitement. Then the truck would come to a stop, and the fun would begin.
One of my favorite pictures of Aunt Judy holding me next to my momma...
There were so many things to do at Aunt Judy’s farm. She had cows, chickens, geese, kittens, and turkeys. Being a city girl, just being on the farm was better than any amusement park. I remember waking up to an open window and the chirping of chickens. The smells, that some may think are terrible, are absolutely exhilarating and refreshing to me. I would wake up to a homemade breakfast of champions. My Aunt Judy can cook. Not only that, she makes the best hot chocolate with breakfast. I don’t know what she does different then what I do at home, but I can never duplicate it. Her eggs are cooked to perfection. I just come out and sit at the kitchen table where she says, “What would you like?” It doesn’t get better than that.
As a little girl, I would beg her to let me collect the eggs from the chicken coop. She would follow me in, let me make an attempt, knowing I was too fearful to reach under the swollen bellies of the chickens that remained guarding their possessions. I would walk out of that coop, proud of the few that I collected (that were abandoned), knowing in the next few days I would be eating those for breakfast. I went back to Aunt Judy’s farm a couple years ago and went to collect the eggs. The excitement doesn’t fade. I walked in there (by myself this time), and stared down those chickens guarding their most prize possessions. I can do this, I tell myself. I would go and reach and the chicken would move. I would jerk my hand back in fear of getting a little peck. I would curse myself, what are you, a sissy? You can do this, it’s just a silly little chicken. The worst thing the little guy will do is peck me on the hand. I can take a little peck. Just do it. DO IT. I would reach again. That little shit would give me the stink eye and bark at me. Did you know chickens bark? Well, maybe they all don’t, but indignant ones do. I would jerk my hand back again. Don’t show fear. Don’t let them know I am scared of them. I can do this. I think I can, I think I can, I think I can. I would reach again, and the little creature would stand and bark, this time thrusting her neck forward at me. I could read it in her eyes, she wanted to rip my hand off. She would rip my hand off. I can’t be scared of a stupid little bird! Come on, put on your big girl panties! Do it! I would reach one more time. Again, the stink eye. Screw it, it isn’t worth losing a hand over. I am meant to be a city girl.
Another fading memory I have of Aunt Judy’s farm is underneath her couch, she would have this smurf thing. Remember the smurfs? I loved the smurfs. Under her couch she had this box. This is so hard to describe because I don’t think they even make these anymore. They were like plastic people that stuck to this board. So I could dress them, and stick there clothes on and make my own little picture. Then if I wanted to start over, I could remove the stickers and reuse them. I loved that little smurf game. It wasn’t even a game. You played with it on your own and built your own little world.
I talk about Aunt Judy like she is single. She isn’t. Aunt Judy is an amazing wife. I don’t know any woman that takes care of her husband better than Aunt Judy takes care of Uncle Howard. They have been together so long, that she completes him. He sits, she makes his breakfast. There doesn’t need to be conversation about what he wants, because she knows. My Uncle Howard would take me out on the four wheeler when I was little. City girls don’t have four wheelers. Uncle Howard would even let me sit in front and drive. We would go through the fields, and I would feel like we were flying. One time at band camp, Uncle Howard was letting me drive and I made a sharp turn causing the four wheeler to tip over. Uncle Howard is a very calm man. I don’t remember him ever raising his voice at my carelessness. He just made sure I was okay, he put us both back up on it, and we rode home. I remember his head was bleeding. To this day, I think he still has a scar from our accident. Little did I know this was the first of many accidents I would have in a motor vehicle. My older cousin Na-Na would also take us out on the four wheeler. When I went with him, I was no longer the driver, but the passenger. I remember he would go flying down the long driveway and make me think he was going to go off the edge. I would desperately cling to him, praying I didn’t die. I remember being so petrified, but desperately wanting to act tough. Those days were so much fun.
My favorite part of Aunt Judy’s Farm was the kittens. I would sneak to the barn in search for the kittens. There were always kittens to play with. ALWAYS. We would find them and hold them all day long. Mom would reprimand us telling us we had to put them down or their eyes were going to swell shut. Where else can you play with an endless amount of cuddly kittens?
As an adult, I still love my Aunt Judy’s farm. Not only the farm, I adore my Aunt Judy. Maybe because over the years of my childhood, I saw her more than any other Aunt, or maybe it is just because she is who she is. She is patient. She is kind. Her heart is so simple. Things are simple when I am with her. Not only is this woman simple but she isn’t afraid to get her hands dirty. She could kill and pluck a chicken blindfolded. She has a beautiful garden that she puts time and work into. She drives a damn tractor! She is no pansy. Aunt Judy is like a farm girl version of GI Jane!
I remember when I was about 11, I got my tonsils taken out. My Aunt Judy sent me the coolest card. Each flap held a little puzzle. I still have that card. I was so excited that she sent it to me. I remember feeling so special that someone so far away had thought of me. It is odd to me that I don’t forget things like that, but as far as what I ate for breakfast...I’m clueless. I love my Aunt Judy. I love her home, and the life that surrounds her. This is the only extended family I keep in contact with. When I have questions like, “Which came first, the egg or the hen?” I call my Aunt Judy. Other questions only Aunt Judy can answer:
Do brown chickens only lay brown eggs?
What is it called when you pull those tassel things off the top of the corn? And why do they do it?
Is the corn that you grow in the fields corn that you eat, or corn that you use to feed the animals?
Why do chickens still move after you chop off their heads?
What’s the white stuff on top of chicken poop?
Over the years I have also become close to my favorite cousin (her daughter). I call her and just chat about life. She gives me advice, and we laugh together. She is like a long-distance sister. Love her!
I wasn’t fortunate enough to be raised around family other than my sister and parents. I have wonderful memories that surround my Aunt Judy and her family, and our long trips to Iowa. A piece of my heart will always stay in Iowa, where memories swarm of cornfields and kittens...and a wonderful Aunt.
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