An Oklahoma Girl

I am home from a whirlwind trip to Oklahoma. We arrived at my parents' homes on Wednesday evening and left Saturday evening--the fastest three days of my life. Those days were filled with family and cousins and great food and laughter and silly games and just incredible fun with the people I love the most in this world. Being in Oklahoma? It's like my soul just heaves a big sigh of happiness. Rolling plains and farm land and cattle and wide open fields with deserted pickups spell home like none other in my mind.

On Friday morning, I asked Dad to take me to the Moore Place. And so, we loaded up in his pickup and two of my nephews plus my girls all tagged along. We drove over to check on dad's cattle first and he noted that one of his cows had a baby the previous night. We watched it toddle after its mama, so precious and new and sweet. And then we drove on down country roads that wind for several miles through the farm lands of Oklahoma. Dad took us by the spot that used to house the home my grandma grew up in, and then we passed the old schoolhouse where my dad went to school for twelve years. Not much is left there other than a brick wall that juts up as a lonely reminder of what used to be. Several miles later, we arrived at the Moore Place.

The Moore Place was the land my great grandparents owned on my mom's side. It is 240 acres of grass and a moss-covered pond and a winding creek that symbolizes home in my mind. My childhood was spent on this land--roaming the creek bottoms, watching my dad herd cattle on Snip, our stubborn horse that served us well for many years, riding with my dad in the combine, and riding the flatbed behind the tractor as my sisters threw up bales of hay. I learned to drive on those country roads and I well-remember clenching that steering wheel as tightly as I could, driving down the road, the dust flying up behind me, a whopping twenty miles per hour as Dad laughed beside me. Are we ever going to get home? Speed up a little! 

Dad turned into the Moore Place and crossed a cattleguard, drove on a trail that has grown deep from years of use. The land is deserted currently--nothing but endless grass waving in the wind. We drove up to the top of a hill, turned around, and slowly began inching our way back to the main road. "Had enough?" Dad said.

Never, Dad. I can never get enough of home.

We rode back to my dad's home that is nestled on the land that he grew up on. I find that baffling really--how much life that flows through my bloodline has lived out their lives where I now trod. I need to ask my dad how that land where he lives came into the family as I don't know the story of its origin. But I do know that my dad was born there and if my memory serves me correctly, my grandpa grew up there. It is 240 acres of farmland with a highway that stretches in front of it and endless prairie on all sides. I remember as a young girl thinking other states were so much prettier than Oklahoma. We didn't have majestic mountains, emerald green, rolling waves and sandy beaches. We only had miles and miles of red dirt and wind that blew a gale. But now? Well, now it is breathtaking. Now I see the waving wheat fields and grazing cattle that have miles of pasture to roam with babies toddling after, and friendly farmers who wave because you just might be a neighbor and sunsets that paint the sky.

I am thankful that my kids, too, relish their childhood memories on that land. Someday they will treasure it as I do as it will spell home to them as well. And someday I won't be here--I will just be a memory...and then...well, eventually, I won't even be that. But land? Land lasts forever. Land brings security and family and a commonality to those who gather there. Land brings memories and stories and history and tradition. It is what binds a family

As we drove away, heading for North Carolina, on Saturday evening, I just soaked in the sights, breathed it in so that I could hold that picture in my mind through the months until I'm back to visit.

Don't get me wrong. I am happy where I live. When we drove over the mountain pass on our way to Asheville on Sunday morning, I couldn't help but smile at the reality that I was back in the place I now call home. But no matter where I am, no matter how old I am--

Down deep? I am just a small town, Oklahoma girl.