Lee

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