As I reflect on the cherished memories of my childhood, one constant thread weaves through the thoughts of my experiences: the farm owned by my parents.
The farm was for them to rear cows and to make a living by doing so. But it turned out to be more than that. It was more than just a piece of land. It was a place where laughter from our family echoed. BBQ’s in the garden, and dad on the ride-on lawnmower. Running through the field and adventures awaited around every corner of the barns in the paddock. Little did I know then that the decision my parents made to own that farm would play such a pivotal role in shaping not only my own memories but also those of my beloved cousin, Sean.
Just a quick background on Sean, is he always grew up in a house that was located in a town. My auntie and uncle liked it in the convenient proximity of local shops and easy walks to the park for their kids. I woke up and could go into the back garden. Sean could walk out of the front door and could follow pavements outside his house. He could walk to the local shop as a kid to get some sweets with his pocket money. I could not. My closest town was 5 miles away. We were rural. So when we swap surroundings, you can imagine how this can shape our outlook.
For Sean, the farm was a haven of excitement and wonder. Some summers, when he and his brothers (my other cousins) would come to visit, the farm became a playground of endless possibilities. We would play the biggest game of hide and seek by jumping to the top of hay stacks and hiding behind big tractor tyres. We would also explore the trees in my back garden and climb the biggest trees. Every moment spent on the farm left an indelible mark on Sean’s heart, as even today he would bring it up fondly in conversation when seeing him. And it was all thanks to the decision made by my parents to embrace the rural lifestyle. A decision that would ripple through the years, creating memories that would last a lifetime.
But memories aren’t just made of places as I experienced… They’re also shaped by the journeys we take and the experiences we share along the way. For me, one such experience was my beloved Mercedes CLC. From the day I picked it up, I never knew how important a role it would play in my life. It was more than just a car, it was a gateway to new adventures and many memories too.
Every road trip taken in that car was an opportunity to explore new destinations and create lasting memories. Whether it was driving along scenic coastal roads where we lived or navigating winding roads in the passing hills of Wales, the Mercedes CLC never failed to deliver a sense of exhilaration and joy. A lump of metal to some, but an engineered masterpiece to me. And with each mile travelled, my appreciation for the car deepened, knowing that it was not just a mode of transportation but a trusted companion on life’s journey. One of the last big things that the car did for me was taking my mum to her hospital appointments while she went through her journey of cancer. The car is something I depended on to help me get her safely to where she needed to be to make her better. The car holds many memories, and I will forever hold that car accountable for the many smiles it gave me, and the important errands it had to do too.
However, as time went on, maintaining the Mercedes became increasingly costly, and eventually, I had to bid farewell to my beloved car. But even as I said goodbye, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of gratitude for the role it played in shaping my memories and experiences.
In hindsight, both the farm and the Mercedes serve as a big reminder that the things we choose to surround ourselves with should enrich our lives and help us live our best life. Whether it’s owning a piece of property or driving a certain car, the true value lies not in their monetary worth but in the happiness and memories they bring.
So, as I look back on the farm and my beloved piece of metal, I am reminded that life’s greatest treasures are not measured in possessions but in the moments we share and the memories we create. And for that, I am eternally grateful.
Just Dean 