Kate Sanchez
“The Ranch Wife Life”In Going Home

“Where do you call home?”, the man asked as I sat down beside him on the final leg of my recent trip to NY.  It was a trip that was bittersweet; celebrating the life and legacy of my Grandmother, who would have been 99 years old in February, and was the last surviving of my grandparents.  The trip was something to behold: relatives from all walks of life and all areas of the country coming together to mourn the loss and commemorate the life that such an amazing woman didn’t just exist in, but truly lived, making the most of every day and leaving a remarkable impression wherever she went.

 There are so many things that we get to experience in a lifetime, and the love of a grandparent is certainly a special one.  We gain so much from these people who spend their time providing for others, acting selflessly, and serving as role models to those younger than them.  We gain so many wonderful attributes from our grandparents.  They are our biggest fans, our confidants and best friends; they are our disciplinarians, and the standard in which a family should follow.  They are our history, what connects us to everything that was, everything that is, and one day will be.
 You see, I think that for ranching or farming families, these things are even more evident than in other situations.  Grandparents are the guiding moral compass in an operation, where the next generation will be responsible for something that past generations built up and made with their own hands, their own blood, sweat, and tears.  They leave a legacy that is not just carried on out of obligation, but instead with pride to get such an opportunity.
 Our grandparents give us so many things: hope, guidance, and support.  So, it didn’t hit me until the gentleman on the plane asked me, that in thinking about all the things that I was lucky enough to inherit from all my grandparents, perhaps the biggest one was always a sense of coming home; the feeling of deep roots, age old history, and cherished times in such a wonderful part of my life.
 After this trip back East, the feeling of going home was as vivid and colorful as the leaves that change in the fall, and as fragrant as the pies my grandma would make from apples grown on our family’s farm.  There’s something in visiting the place that shaped much of who you are…a place where dreams were dreamt and memories made, all while being surrounded by family and some of the people who knew you best as a youngster.
 The feeling of connectivity when you visit that place, for me at least, is undeniable and unequivocal.  As I stood where my grandmother sat in her chair, faithfully gazing out the window at the hill where her grandchildren played in the winter, where we would meander barefoot down to the river to fish and play in the summertime, and where the herd of registered Holstein cows grazed in contentment, something hit me.  In that moment, I couldn’t help but think about the fact that home may not always be signified by the address on your mailbox, but instead it may simply be this:  home is in every place in which a piece of your heart has been left throughout your lifetime.
 In this place, the roots and traditions of a family farm run deeper and truer than most people will ever be so fortunate to be able to experience…and what an inheritance that is.