Nebraska Mother

I grew up among the flat fields and tall cottonwood trees. The night sky was my flashlight, and the crickets were my alarm. Ditch burning and milkweed line my childhood memory. Dust devils predicted the summer rains, while windy days helped dry the land. The domesticated cats kept me company on days of sadness. My siblings were my best friends and playmates. Winter snow storms kept us at home; while waiting for noon to approach to go outside “once it warmed up outside.” My Memories of the farm are clear from working till night and starting before the morning news. The pivots needed to be maintained, bins to be swept and cleared, weeds to be dug, crops to be harvested, and equipment to be cleaned. Everything needs to be done before the start of the next project. As time slowed for me, I could look back and reflect. Work is never done on the Nebraska land, and memories keep their stay; our Nebraska mother knows our actions. She watches us plant and work; we are the stewards of the land. She belongs to us just as we belong to her.