Flashback: The Simple Life

Wyndwood Farm - Havenbrook, WY

The sun had just begun to rise over the Wyndwood farm, casting a golden glow over the rolling hills and fields. Finlay, then 13 years old, loved this time of day. It was when the farm seemed most alive, with the dew still fresh on the grass and the air crisp with the promise of a new day. Despite the chaos and turmoil the rupture had brought to much of the world, Havenbrook, Wyoming, remained a sanctuary of simplicity and resilience.

The Wyndwood farm had been in Finlay’s family for generations. It was a sprawling piece of land, with fields of wheat and barley swaying in the gentle breeze, apple orchards that bore fruit in abundance, and pastures where cows and sheep grazed peacefully. The farmhouse itself was a sturdy, two-story structure made of weathered wood, painted white with green shutters. It had a large porch that wrapped around the front, where Finlay's family often gathered in the evenings.

This morning, Finlay was up early, eager to help with the morning chores. His father, Seamus, a tall, robust man with a kind face and calloused hands, was already in the barn, milking the cows. The smell of fresh hay and the gentle lowing of the animals filled the air. Finlay’s mother, Fiona, a warm and nurturing woman with a perpetual smile, was in the kitchen, preparing breakfast. The aroma of bacon and freshly baked bread wafted through the open windows.

“Good morning, Dad!” Finlay called out as he entered the barn.

“Morning, son,” Seamus replied, his voice deep and reassuring. “Ready to get to work?”

Finlay nodded eagerly, grabbing a bucket and joining in. He loved these moments, working side by side with his father, feeling a part of the rhythm of farm life. After the cows were milked, they moved to the chicken coop to collect eggs. Finlay carefully gathered the warm, speckled eggs into his basket, mindful of the clucking hens.

After the morning chores were done, Finlay’s younger sister, Maeve, bounded out of the house. At ten years old, she was full of energy and curiosity. Her golden hair, always in braids, bounced as she ran towards them.

“Mom says breakfast is ready!” she announced, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

Finlay’s other siblings, nine-year-old twins, Niamh and Aidan, and seven-year-old Brigid, came running after her, their laughter filling the morning air. Grandpa Declan and Grandma Moira, who lived in a small cottage nearby, joined them, their faces beaming with pride and joy.

The family gathered around the large wooden table in the kitchen. The room was filled with the clatter of dishes and the cheerful hum of conversation. Finlay’s older brother, Eamon, who had just turned sixteen, was teasing Maeve about her braids, and Fiona was laughing as she served up generous portions of food.

“This is the best part of the day,” Finlay thought, looking around at his family, feeling a deep sense of contentment.

After breakfast, they all headed out to the fields. It was a Saturday, which meant they could spend the day together working on the farm. Finlay loved the feeling of the soil beneath his feet and the sun on his back. Seamus taught him how to repair the fences while Eamon and Maeve picked apples in the orchard. Niamh and Aidan helped their grandparents tend to the vegetable garden, and Brigid followed Fiona around, eager to learn.

Fiona joined them later with a picnic lunch, and they all sat under the shade of an old oak tree, enjoying the simple pleasure of being together. The warm sun, the gentle breeze, and the sound of laughter created a perfect moment of family unity.

As the day drew to a close, they gathered on the porch, watching the sun set over the hills. The sky was a riot of colors—reds, oranges, and purples blending into one another. The world outside might have been in turmoil, but here, on the Wyndwood farm, life was peaceful and full of love.

Seamus put an arm around Finlay's shoulders, squeezing gently. “You did good today, son,” he said, pride evident in his voice.

Finlay smiled up at him, feeling a warm glow of happiness. “Thanks, Dad. I love it here.”

Seamus nodded, looking out over the farm. “So do I, Finlay. So do I.”

As the first stars began to twinkle in the night sky, Finlay felt a profound sense of gratitude for his family and the life they had built together.