I had established my own office (business) during my early thirties, right after I graduated from William and Mary. A university in the heart of Williamsburg, Virginia. I had just finished a day’s work with my patients. Luckily, my house wasn’t too far from work; in fact, my apartment was in the same complex as my office. This made it easy to slip into my PJs. I ate supper that night and then settled down on the couch to watch a movie. My lawyer, who was also my aunt’s lawyer, informed me of my aunt’s passing. He also informed me that I was her beneficiary of any physical assets that she owned. Which meant her family farm. Which now meant I had a decision to make. The family farm or New York?

Here I am. Sitting at the antique desk that was left inside the house. The house that was left to me by my aunt. I bit my lip as I peered out at the farmland that would soon need to be tended. Who would I choose? The trustworthy family-owned business. It seemed like the best choice for me. Farm life was going to be my permanent life from here on out. Farm life is how I wanted my life to be anyway. I thought about my current situation. After a few seconds, I snapped my thoughts back to reality. Then I got up from the desk chair. I walked to the kitchen to fix myself a snack and pour myself a drink. Pepsi was my drink of choice. A Pepsi with a glass full of ice. Once I was satisfied with the amount of cheese and crackers, I decided my snack would fill me for now. Then I decided to walk out to the porch. I found the old rocking chair my aunt would use to admire the livestock, along with the acres of farmland. I noticed the old rake I used to clean out the horse stalls. The rake was lying on the side of the barn. This would trigger my thoughts to so many memories of farm life. When I was younger, I had dreams of leaving my small hometown. These thoughts brought me back to the place I was in New York. My psychiatrist practice. So, which would I choose?