Lee
By John W. Vander Velden
Lee
watched the cornstalks driven to their final dance by the combine. The stripped ears carried swiftly up and into
the machine. The low sun reminded of the
hours spent and the hours that this day yet holds. Brilliant work lights would illuminate after
the sky filled with stars. Stars he
would not notice for his eyes would remain fixed upon the rows ahead, their
brown golden leaves, fluttering pennants in the evening wind, until the
snapping rolls tear and crump. The late
autumn air fills his nostrils as his senses searched any
scent of burning belts,
oil fumes, or overheated diesel. He
listens to the droning familiar music of the big yellow machine doing his best
to pick up any unique squeaks or clatters within the mind-numbing crescendo. Lee doesn’t count the hours, those completed
or those ahead. He counts the
acres. Acres are his yardstick, and
bushels. Bushels equal
dollars…sorta’. There are bill to pay
and plans to make for next year. Lee
tries not to think about how he will pay for next year’s crop, but those
thoughts creeps into his mind nearly every day.
Time now to remain focused upon the task at hand. The years
work and worry is coming to
fruition. The grain that fills his
hopper a sign of the hours of sweat and labor, of the months of planning, and
sleepless nights. Even now the fear of
“losing it all” crowds inside the cab.
For observes might wonder why Lee would gamble, health and fortune on
something as tenuous as farming. But
even among his fears this farmer does not consider it purely a gamble. Yes, he understands the risk, sees it each
day, but believes that hard work and determination mixed with a bit of skill
will see him and his family through…again.
Some years have been lean…but others have been better. It’s the life he lives, and figures that it’s
the life that had chosen him. So he
lives it. But the day is ending…or at
least the sky’s light grows dim. Lee is
content, as content as he ever is, that he has accomplished something. Maybe less than he had hoped when he tied his
boots this morning, but acres have fallen and the end is a bit nearer. Yeah, it’s been a good day…
(388 Words) 11-29-2016
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