I was speaking with my Mom the other night and she informed me that one of their neighbors had passed away unexpectedly. I can not remember the last time I saw or spoke to Phil, it has been many years since I have spent a long amount of time at my parents house in a small Vermont town. Often though, when I came to visit, I would take the road by the farm because that particular spot seemed to be a place of grounding for me. Though I did not know Phil well I have known him all my life and no mater how long it had been since I had seen him he always had a big hello and always asked what I was up too with sincere interest.
As a child we would take our two silver milk cans over to the farm to get fresh milk directly from the vat. This is one of my fondest memories of growing up in a small town and having it rise to the surface the other day gave me pause. For it was something that I am sure I will never be able to do with Noah, which makes me sad. This was something that has had a lasting impact on me. I have used this memory to help keep myself grounded in a world of increasing stress and materialism. Going to the Raiche family farm to get milk was, at the core, a simple and great experience that all children should be so lucky to have.
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