I had no true friends. My family was cordial but I couldn’t tell if they really loved me or I was just their responsibility and an appropriate reflection of their status. I treated people according to what I thought they could do for me. How did I turn out such a mess? It was all Jeff’s fault. I couldn’t remember the last time I had an unguarded moment before I met him. ‘Be my friend,’ I asked. He held on until I settled down. ‘Of course.’ He wrote down his number and said to call if I needed to talk. I told him I’d call to make arrangements to drive back to school. Then I left. I composed myself and by the time I was home, I was the ice queen again. I couldn’t decide if my visit with his family had been enriching or traumatic. Jeff had told me on the ride home what Thanksgiving would be like at his house. Everybody would say what they were thankful for. Sam and Harri would take the most time. In a holdover from their hippie days they would give thanks for everybody and everything.. 24 acres. It’s just under 1,000 feet of road frontage down there on Mount Carmel, and just over 1,100 here on the side we’re parked on.”“How come it’s available?”I looked at my wife and shrugged. “Good question.” We both turned to Andrea.“The previous owner was a farmer, but after he died, neither of his sons wanted to become farmers. One of them lives in Baltimore and the other moved out west somewhere. The original farm was split, half on this side and a larger piece on the other side of Mount Carmel Road. The farmer down there...”, she said, pointing towards the east, “ ... he bought the piece across the road, leaving this piece.”“What’s the farmer raise?” I asked, curious about my future neighbors.“Not completely sure,” admitted Andrea. “Sweet corn, probably.” Andrea turned and pointed up the hill slightly. “My understanding is that there are some apple trees over there.”I looked where she was pointing, and made out several apple trees, looking bare and gnarled in the late winter.
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