They boarded the same vessel in Ireland
She arrived an orphan, her lineage buried at sea
He proposed
She accepted
They began carving out life in this valley in 1792
Homes were built
Children born
Gardens grown
Death came in its own time
They are buried on the hill just to the Southeast
Eternally protected by sassafras and oak
They watch my kids play in their fields
Elsie doesn't understand why she's not in school
None of our children truly know the fear we share with mankind
The farm is but a vacation away from the city they call home
But the ancestors know
They understand
They welcome us home
This ancient family refuge holds secrets locked away in our shared blood
The secrets comfort me because I haven't forgotten
The whispered truths linger and echo in every sound that haunts the silence of these woods
This sacred ground is our temporal salvation
It is our Temple before God
And here I pray for the end of chaos
As sure as death is out there, life will continue here
The ancestors only ask that I whisper the secrets to my own children
They must not be forgotten
My family and I are waiting out the Coronavirus at my boyhood home in the hills of East Tennessee. My maternal lineage have walked these fields for 228 years.
I feel the struggles they faced when they arrived here. It brings me comfort to know that we wouldn't be the first to find the resources to survive on this land.