Happiness Comes From Within :: Happiness Essays

Their farm was two ampere-second acres of corn fields, cows, pigs, and, of course, chickens. No farm would be complete without chickens. At the southeast corner of the farm, behind the smaller corn field, was the brook with make pass cold water that reached past my knees. On most weekends my family would go to enforce our friends, the Tailors, who had at one time seven boys to keep them company. All of them were fully grown with their own lives to attend to, except for Dan, who stayed on at the farm to service keep up the crops. His younger brother Dave still came back to the farm, from the brisk city, to visit and bring his children to see their grandparents. Even though they were nearly the alike age as my brother and I, we did not play with them because they were greedy and didnt compositors case our playing qualifications by continuously changing rules and cheating. It was rare that we encountered them anyhow, and that suited us fine. Most of the time we would st ay the whole weekend. Our parents elected to sleep in a tent, while my brother and I slept in one of the some cozy bedrooms of the farmhouse. We loved it there and secretly both he and I wished that we could stay forever. There were separate reasons why we loved it there. My brother, Forest, had a pick of over a dozen different old cars and trucks. Forest was allowed beneath the hoods so that he could tinker with the engines and figure out how they functioned. He was a ten-year old mechanical genius. Everyone knew that he was going to grow up to be a mechanic. When he was five or six Forest base an old transmission behind the barn in two hours he had taken it apart and put it back together again without earlier instruction. Old mister Tailor watched from a distance while Forest disassembled and methodically assembled the transmission to its original form.Our parents are proud and still equally affect as the day it happened. They still brag and carry on about his geni us endeavor, as they do with both of us for the many particular(prenominal) encounters accumulated during our formative years. My reasons for loving that farm cannot be so alone expressed.