Awakening

The sun peeks out from beneath its grassy blanket

The dew glistens off my newly polished boots

Curling my fingers into his mane,

I lean in close matching my breath with his

Nudging, I whisper

“How bout a good run, boy?”

And for that moment,

I stare into the horizon ahead

When I was a young girl, I dreamt of being several things when I grew up: a teacher, an architect, a dental hygienist, and most importantly a jockey!  For years I dreamt of being a jockey.  I longed to sit on the back of a thoroughbred, feeling strong muscles rippling beneath me as we stood at the starting line, waiting for our gate to open and the race to begin. 

My dream seemed to be getting closer when my grandparents surprised me with a beautiful horse that was mine to ride whenever I pleased.  Sunni was beautiful.  Long legs, strong muscles, and fast.  He loved to run and hated to have another horse in front of him.  He would surge ahead as if always in a race when I was on his back.  I could feel the wind in my hair, watched the leaves on the trees meld together in flashes of orange and red as we galloped across the field.   And for that brief moment, with the horizon ahead of me, I was my dream.  I was a jockey. 

"How bout another good run boy?"

The Belief of a Child

It's amazing how we as children believe in things unseen.  We don't question, but believe in the man that signifies the spirit of Christmas.  And each year, we count down the days until he will be here.  Hoping and wishing that he will bring us exactly what we asked for.

Dressed in my new Christmas dress with the satin ties that form the perfect bow in the back, velvet as soft as a kitten and shiny shoes that I haven't yet scuffed the toes on, I sit on the steps swinging my legs back and forth.  Mom made me wear tights much to my dismay.  I haven't even had them on for an hour yet and they were already sagging around my knees, making them look like they have a double chin.

"You girls can go get in the car," Dad said.  "We just have to go to the bathroom, and we'll be right out."

Every year it was the same line and every year we believed it.  Even though, my sisters and I knew that they were taking way too long to just be going to the bathroom.

Inside the house, mom and dad were acting as Santa's elves, spreading our presents out underneath the tree so that they would be ready to greet us when we got home from church. 

I always sat next to my dad in church.  Sometimes I think he acted more like a child than I did, tickling my side with that twinkle in his eye.  Not surprisingly, it reminded me of Santa Clause.  I would giggle and Mom would immediately shush me.

After church, we rushed to the living room to see what Santa had brought.  Strange how he always came during church and not while we were asleep.  After presents from Santa were opened, it was to bed we went.

In the morning, Kristi and I would rush down the stairs in our New Kids on the Block pajamas.  I ripped the wrapping paper off the largest box with my name on it and found the newest luxury for Barbie.  A pink camper that had all the amenities.  Kristi quickly opened her box only to find a shiny new red convertible.  Barbie would definitely be riding in style.  For hours we played with our new toys, oblivious to the food cooking in the kitchen and the wrapping paper strewn around us.

As the years went on, our beliefs faded and suddenly Santa's writing resembled Mom's.  The paper looked strangely familiar.  Hadn't we seen Mom using it earlier?  She tried telling us that Santa was too busy and had asked her to help by wrapping the gifts.  It worked for awhile, but Santa disappeared along with our innocence.

Now twenty-four, I know that there won't be any presents from Santa under the tree and that there is no jolly man in a red suit.  I am painfully aware of the sadness around us instead of the joy.  Sitting in front of the Christmas tree, lights sparking like the brightest stars in the sky, I close my eyes and wish to have the beliefs of a child...

After the Blizzard

The sun peaks over the silo

As she presses her nose to the cold glass

Staring at her father

As he sets shovel to snow

To clear a path

To the red weathered barn door

Starting his day’s work

Just a country girl....

I am just a country girl at heart, but never really realized how strong these roots were until a few months ago.  I grew up on the family farm and learned the value of hard work.  I saw my dad pour his heart into that farm sometimes getting nothing in return, but broken machinery and a poor crop.  I helped as much as I could starting at a young age.  I immediately knew it was a life I never wanted and couldn't wait till the day I turned sixteen.  This meant freedom for me.  The day I got an outside job was the day I no longer had to help on the farm.  I left and never looked back.  That is until now...

You see a few months back, my parents announced they were selling the farm.  A day I knew would come and didn't think would really bother me.  They were excited; I was scared.  These were big changes and I just wanted everything to work out.  As things were set into motion, I realized this was really happening.  Soon the family farm would be no more. 

The day of the auction was bittersweet.  I felt like as each cow got sold, I was watching a piece of my childhood sell with it.  Piece by piece, cow by cow, it was all gone.  As I stood on the barn walk watching my dad milk his final cow after forty some years, I finally realized where my roots would always be.  Right here on this country farm...