“Mom, where are we going for Thanksgiving?” I asked, hoping that we would be going to the ranch. She replied, “You know where we are going, the ranch.” My eyes got bigger and I immediately begin to become excited for my upcoming adventures. Every time I heard the word ranch I immediately felt comforted. I start to remember precious, or in my case, it was funny, memories of family. My family and my ranch go together hand and hand. I am almost positive my Grandpa loves the ranch more than anything in the whole world. I started counting the days till Thanksgiving. I rarely have my family in one place at the same time so I was really looking forward to going to the ranch.

It is quite a journey to get to the ranch; it almost takes about four hours. On the other hand I don’t really mind the drive because there is always something interesting going on in the car. My brother is either sleeping, doing something that is somewhat comical, or picking on me. My sister, as usual, is acting to cool for school and is blocking out everything, even though I secretly know she loves road trips. My family is divorced so my dad is never really in the picture but my mom is trying to keep things somewhat in order. But I love those four long hours cramped in the car with my whole family because after a long month or two of not spending anytime together I get to be with my family.

First we leave our house, we pass Ikea, then the Katy Mill’s Mall, we stop for lunch, we continue driving until we really start to get into the country, we see the blinking lights then we turn into a dirt road an I see it. I see the gate, the only thing stopping us from entering pure country bliss. At each land marking the anticipation grows, but when I see the gate I can hardly control myself. Because I know what is to come, I am about to have the time of my life. We go down the dirt road and in the distance I see a tiny shack with my grandma standing on the steps welcoming us.

As we settled in the tiny house, my three cousins, my brother and sister, and I set off to find something to do. As we walk around the dry dusty brush we stumble upon a couple of hay barrels. They were tied up perfectly like little string packages.
Instantly we all knew what we were going to do with them. Without even muttering a word we push together the barrels into a circle. All the older kids got on the barrels before my younger cousin and I did. My cousin and I struggled to get up on them; finally we got up on the barrels and stood our ground. My first target was my younger cousin. When my brother signaled for us to start I immediately jumped for him and knocked him down. It was an all out battle; we were flying everywhere. I somehow stayed in the game until the very end; it was just my brother and I. He was big and tall, I was harmless to him. Everyone knew I had no choice but to get pummeled to the ground, defeated. I did not hesitate, I had the element of surprise, and I leaped forward and struck my brother in the chest. He was knocked down to the floor. And with a huge gasp everyone was in awe. I turned and faced the audience with a sense of accomplishment; they applauded. I jumped down to where my brother was lying and gave him my hand. He grabbed it and jumped back up. He exclaimed, “Best two out of three.” We gave each other a satisfactory nod and all was well again between us.
At first we had nothing to talk about, but now we had everything to talk about after that. We were all reunited after that glorifying experience. We laughed and ran home. I skipped home happily to inform all of the adults of my accomplishment. All of the other kids and I except my brother were happy to inform the adults. We would stop at nothing to let the adults know that I just beat my brother in a game, a game where everyone knew who was going to win, my brother. I now held something against my brother that would forever be held against him. But it would also prove as great memory.
That night during dinner we all sat around the dinner table and talked about anything and everything. The adults talked mostly of politics and the kids talked mostly of what we were going to do tomorrow. Usually I hate setting the table but I never minded at the ranch because I knew I was going to have a very enjoyable time with my family. That was always a promise.
We never ended the night with just dinner; it always followed with watching an old movie or simply just playing a game. That night I decided to go sit out on the porch by myself on the swing set. It started off with just myself and then it slowly became the entire family attempting to sit to but ultimately failing. I was just happy because all of us were together. I did not just love the ranch because of the go-carts; I loved the ranch because of simple moments like this, moments where my whole family is together. If we were watching a James Bond movie or if we were listening to the coyote’s howl. It did not matter if James Bond wanted his beverage shaken or stirred; the only thing that mattered was reuniting with my family. No matter what my family was doing, it was always going to be something to cherish.
About a year or two ago my mom informed me of some very heart shattering news. “The ranch is gone,” that was the only thing I heard in that conversation. I was so upset because I knew my family was never going to be the same. No more riding go-carts again, no more fishing, and no more family bonding time it seemed. Because my cousins lived in Wisconsin and my Grandparents lived in San Antonio I never saw them as much as I wanted to. It was like every time we went to the ranch, I was instantly promised time with my family to bond. Without the ranch I feel like have nothing to talk about with my family anymore. We still do not have the ranch but occasionally when we are all sitting around the dinner table, someone will bring up a memory of the ranch. Almost instantly a loud uproar of laughter and conversations begin. I am always reminded of the time when I drove the go-cart into the house, or the time there was a coyote in the house. We could spend all night talking about countless memories at the ranch. Sometimes I feel like a piece of my family is gone, and then it only takes one memory of the ranch and that whole is filled. Everywhere my family goes we bring fond memories of the ranch with us. We might not have current ranch memories to talk about but we have numerous old memories to talk about. I am still planning till this day to bring up the memory of him losing to me in a game of king of the hill. I will forever have those memories of family at the ranch. Even though my family lives miles and miles away from each other. We always meat at some point during the year, and talk about the ranch.