2013-04-11 / Letters

Why A House In Webster Mills, Fulton County, Pa.?

To The Editor:

As we come upon April, I am forever reminded of a day back in April of 2009, when but one key was placed in my hand ... the key to a beautiful, old home in Webster Mills, Pa.

As it was deemed that much “work” needed to be done on “this old house;” contractors came and went, but one question that was queried time and time again – “Why, Becky? Why Fulton County, Pa.?”

As a child, growing up on the banks of the Conococheague Creek in Franklin County, I was so very privileged to be exposed to a country life. The intoxicating smell of cow manure, the aroma of autumn leaves in the forest on a drizzly rainy morning ... the quietness of snow right before it ascribes its canvas on the earth. I wanted so badly as a child to live on a farm. But my father worked at Mack Truck, and albeit every year when I wrote my list to Santa, I would always include “a horse” ... none was ever delivered. Nonetheless, in my childhood hand, I would spend hours drawing pictures of my fictional farm.

God has a bigger plan than we, ourselves, sometimes see. As an adult, I was sitting in my real estate office in Virginia Beach, realizing that my commitment to the area was not as necessary as it should be, and my mind meandered to those days of happiness catching minnows in the creek and learning from Dad how to track a deer by recognizing tree rubbings as a result of itchy, velvety antlers. It was time to go home.

The first time I ever drove down 522 south it was with my “general contractor” companion in the car. And as we passed a turn in the road, I exclaimed, “Why that looks just like the farm I used to draw as a child!” ... And there it was ... a house in Webster Mills.

Four years have passed, and I am still as in love with this property as I was that day the key was passed into my hand. I have met so many lovely, extraordinary people who are such an asset to my life. Such very good people exist here in Fulton County! I hold them all in the treasure of my being. Another treasure that was given to me on my birthday? From my mother ... a framed piece of artwork, scrawled in an 8-year-old’s hand ... “Becky’s Imaginary Farm.” It hangs in the store today.

Becky Brackbill
The Yankee Mercantile

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