Almost!

For G Leigh!

How Far I've Come

I sat quietly in the passenger seat this week while my 16-year-old (in 2 weeks) cruised along at 72 mph (which is my allowable 7 mph over the speed limit) on the FREEWAY. It was actually a pleasant ride and I enjoyed watching the sheep and lambs out my window, even though it was raining pretty hard and there were several menacing semi-trucks to work around. And I just had to congratulate myself on how far I have come in this little adventure of driver's training.

Having been through this now four times you would think that it's no big deal. But driver's training for the mom is never that. It all starts with much anticipation and bracing oneself for the added stress load of the upcoming year. You know that you will have to fit into your week several trips that you dread making. You start with the fairly safe parking lots and slowly learn curves and higher speeds and eventually Hwy. twenty! You know you (I mean he) have conquered that 4-lane menace when you can actually make a left turn onto it.

But the freeway! That you can't even bear to think about, especially at night. You just have to put it out of your mind as if it will never really happen. And then one day, about 11 1/2 months later, suddenly there you are (I mean there he is) cruising and passing like there's really nothin to it. And you can finally take a deep breath. You did it! And by the way, so did he!

Your ride is over, but your praying isn't.

I am From

I am from a pail of warm milk in the barn where wild kittens scatter and hiss when you try to catch them; from Montgomery Ward catalog pages put to a second use in the outhouse and Watkins salve and spices in the cupboard.

I am from a century-old farmhouse, a hand pump in the washroom, a cow pasture for a playyard with a creek, baby ducks and a bridge.

I am from long rows of corn stalks that scratch when you run through them, from prairie grass, thistles and milk weed pods.

I am from 3 sit-down meals a day each with 2 prayers and a Bible reading, a little lunch carried out to Dad on the plow; from blue eyes and ingenuity; from Gertie and George, Nykamp and Eernisse and orphans shipped off to a new land.

I am from scratch recipes, second-hand deals and make it yourself. I am from a steering wheel salute to every car you meet.

I am from "please, my little girl" and "pay attention, boy" delivered in Dutch words we couldn't translate yet seldom questioned.

I am from great-grandma who taught Sunday School and gave out little combs for prizes. I am from generations of believers when belief was all they had.

I am from Pipestone and Rock county, the Rotterdam and Ellis Island; from olie bollen and pannakeuken.

From the grandma who found her young husband struggling for his last breath under a heavy thresher, from her domineering ways that raised 2 small children and 8 younger siblings; from her strength that fed the cattle, stitched homemade dresses and cared for aging parents by herself.

I am from a black, onyx ring that mom wears all the time because it's hers now; the ring she would sneak from her ma's jewelry box as a child and wonder about the pa she couldn't remember. I am from make-believe and dress-up in that bedroom where the ring lay forgotten; while my brothers grew tall like that grandpa who was never mentioned. From that ring that crossed the Atlantic worn by a young man who came with hope. One day it will pass to me and I will wear it or maybe keep it on my dresser where my grand-daughters will dress their dolls and I will remember where I am from.

The above is submitted at Owlhaven for a writing contest using the “I Am From” template. Tell her that Leanne from Sister by Your Side sent you.