After a couple of years of removing stuff from the farm it is now officially just back to a big job. I know this because every person who sees the property tells me so. “This is a big job” they say, “you should have seen it last week/month/year” I say, and we all laugh. Well I pretend to laugh, while I quietly die inside about how many hours/days/weeks/months it has taken just to get it back to being a big job.

The amount of energy I have expended removing things from every corner of the place would have renovated the cabin twice over by now. Add to that the amount of effort my father used to make the mess in the first place and is it any wonder I’m have a bit of existential crisis about my life and what the purpose of it is. When my father died I really believed I was going to sell the farm, partly because it was an overwhelming task but also because I didn’t want to spend years of my life on the remains someone else’s dream.

Over the last two years things have changed in so many areas of life that clearing and rebuilding the farm and cabin have become a necessity. The whole cost of living thing has obviously made the idea of a mortgage free existence a more appealing option, and the old dream of owning a small capital city apartment has now slipped away.

The trauma and guilt that made doing anything in that first year so difficult has now become an occasional twinge instead of a constant immobilizing force. I still have bad days where it all comes back to me, and I don’t think I will be able to face living there, but there are now days where I feel a sense of calm and accomplishment as I slowly return it to the magical place that it once was.