Thursday, July 14, 2016

Midwest Americana Bathed in Light


This is our everyday.
 
Surrounded by the calloused hands of early morning risers, the ones who vacation around mother nature and milk prices, the souls who give away their plenty because that's the way God intended.
 
Miles of corn and beans and wheat and hay stretched out wide waiting for the rains to quench their thirst.

The slow crunch of the much too late in the night truck wheels on gravel as the farmer finally makes it home, his children tucked in hours ago. Another meal missed and still another field to harvest and the margins are slim and the stress is high and the price of corn went down by .33 but there's a plate warming in the oven and cold milk in the fridge.


And sometimes he forgets and pays more attention to the Ag Market than the jelly stained cheeks around his breakfast table but his love runs deeper than any three-piece suit on the commuter train headed toward the city.

This life isn't easy but it is good and it is decent and one of the few places left where a handshake can make an honest deal and every one in town remembers your grandmama's cobbler.

It can be hard and tough and overflowing with loss - crops and livestock and babies and barns. But there's also blessings. Too many too count. Sunrises and births and neighbors coming together. Laughter recalling memories around big kitchen tables where elbows knock against each other because family isn't restricted by DNA. Where sunlight bathes in golden light reminding us of what truly matters in this world.

This is our everyday.
 

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