ꕥ December 27, 1967 ꕥ
Paul trudged on through the snow, his left hand in his pocket and his right propping Mary upon his hip. He looked around at his surroundings as Martha and I trailed a few steps behind.
We had packed up the car and left London Christmas night, and now-two days and about a dozen stops to eat, drink, sleep, and sightsee later-we were at a farm Paul had bought a few years ago in Scotland. It was the first time he had ever even been to the property. Caught up in fame and having a baby, he just hadn't really found the time to do so.
Now, however, he was free. The death of Brian Epstein a few months ago had come as a shock to the whole band and hit each of them hard. Paul had thrown himself into work to deal with his grief. Brian had brought them to fame. What would they do without him?
We had gotten married at the beginning of July, right as the Beatles had wrapped up their recording for Sgt. Pepper's
Lonely Hearts Club Band. Since then, life had been pretty great. From our wedding up until Brian's death, we were living in what seemed to be too good of dream. We were finally married and at a stable place with raising Mary. After the first few months of her being a newborn in need of constant care, she had slowly become more independent, and when July hit, she was finally at that cute baby stage where she was making sounds and smiling like a cute little maniac. There had always been ups and downs, but we made it through the together, and that's what was so great about us.Two sections of Mary's hair were braided and pinned behind her head to keep it out of her face. It was too cold to tie it all the way up, but she hated it being in her eyes, so I had improvised so she would stop whining this morning. It was obvious that the long car rides in the past few days were getting a bit tedious to her, so to be quite honest, I felt bad.
Paul finally made it up to the raggedy house-barn mashup standing in the middle of a gigantic field that seemed to just go on forever and ever. He stopped to look it over.
"Is this really the first time you have been up here?" I asked him, but it sure looked like the answer to my question was right in front of me. The grass was overgrown and poking its way through the snow on the ground and the house looked like a mess. I feared that if we even so much as stepped inside that it would collapse.
"Yeah, it is," he replied, and he had a smile on his face. Mary was looking around at her surroundings curiously. A few weeks shy of turning one, she really had no idea what she was looking at other than just miles and miles of land. It probably looked crazy from her perspective. "What do you think?"
"I think it needs some work," I told him.
"But would you ever like to live here?" he asked. "When everything calms down? Think of all the animals we could have and the plants we could grow. All the space Mary could have to run around."
I smiled at the thought. "Yeah," I told him confidently. We locked eyes and I could see him smiling back at me. "I could see us living here at some point."
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