The place on earth that holds the most dreams and memories for me is a hundred and twenty-eight acre farm in north western Maryland where life and time truly run in circles. This small, rundown farm is made up of hilly, rocky land with a shallow stream and open valleys. I was raised here, learned to ride horses and climb trees here, and I saw, first hand, the circular nature of life. On a farm, the animals' lives run in similar, circular patterns. The young are born, grow and play until it is time for them to go or they die. Puppies grow into dogs, calves into cows and foals into horses. On the farm and in my life pain was part of the circle. Despite the pain, the worst of which was my father's death, the magic and the memories of this place beckon me to return, raise a family and die here, and to complete my own circle.
             My memories range from the first time I walked through the house at the age of three, to the day the Berlin wall fell, to the morning I found out my dad passed away. I can still see the house through the eyes of a three-year-old. I could barely see over the banister. The air smelled musty as we wandered through the large rooms most with high ceilings and wood floors. It had very large open windows for an early 19th century farm house. I remember all the stairs, front and back staircases rising from basement to attic, and I remember how it felt to climb them and to slide down the banister. It is amazing the wonder that a big empty house causes in a small child. I came to take the house and land for granted in the following years. It was only when I faced leaving it for a year that I came to realize how much it meant to me and how much of me was shaped by the times I spent here. I remember when the winter set in, with cold snowy nights and clear white landscape during the day. I remember how fun and wonderful it was to play with the dogs in the cold wet snow. I want to be able to see that in my daughters eyes as she ...