Sunday, June 27, 2010

Harvest Moon


Pack up the car.
DON'T forget the chips...
or the blankets...
OR the playing cards!
That's right.
The family has made their annual trip to Manti
to enjoy the Manti Mormon Miracle Pageant
held on Temple Hill.

Every year we depart
car packed with essentials
ready for a day full of teeny tiny bathroom stalls, bug spray, grassy sandwiches, and family time.

This year we took my brother's car, so he drove.
Meaning,
my parents surrendered their driver/passenger thrones and joined my lowly peasant brothers in the back seat.
Also!
As newly declared commoners they are entitled to finally SEE the movie featured in the car on the way to Manti!
woot woot!

So after a quick, cheap coronation, I took my place in the coveted passenger seat.
So there I sat
Not watching the movie
and ultimately, far too distracted to submit even the slightest effort to breaking the spine of the crisp copy of Wuthering Heights I'd brought along.
I decided simply to take in the film, of the nonfiction variety, streaming just outside my very own passenger seat window.
I let the musical stylings of Priscilla Ahn wash over me
and I watched the landscape transform from large, corporate buildings and crowded, stucco houses to a patchwork of open fields and livestock
and I began to wonder...

Not long ago
I was heatedly sharing my opposition with my father about his choice to unabashedly play country music where everyone in the house could hear it.
As I protested, all he did was smile, which, I must admit, was a little disconcerting.
When I was finished, he sat back, nonchalantly, and stated simply that in other circumstances I, myself, might have been a committed-country-lover.
I gasped at such heresy and demanded that he explain exactly how he might come to such an unsightly conclusion.

He went on to explain that from the time he and my mother had traveled to the U.S. from Mexico it had always been his intention to settle our family somewhere more agricultural than our current abode.
Somewhere like Mount Pleasant, which had been his desired destination.

I was a bit shocked by this revelation, but I couldn't remain disbelieving for long.
I had long known that my parents had lived on a small ranch in their early married lives, complete with rabbits, chickens, and I'm fairly certain there was a goat in there somewhere.
The whole reason for my parent's voyage to the States was to enroll my father at BYU to study agriculture. But one decision led to another, and a path to another path, and ultimately led away from that version of our lives.

But I mean, really
It definitely could have happened.
And I would like to believe that I would have remained a die-hard anti-country, but I can't say for sure.

So as we drove through the wilder, more agricultural parts of life in Utah
I began to wonder.

What would my life be like had my father's vision of our lives come true?

I can be sure of one thing, I would definitely be more brown than green in skin tone,
Muscle maybe?
I'd probably me more self efficient.

And there I began to paint a mental picture myself in such a life:

Standing firm in the middle of a sizzling field,
Stray whisps of hair dancing about the edges of my face,
Prairie skirt blowing in the wind,
Glistening brow looking over the horizon,
Curved sickle in hand...

A little too My Antonia?
Probably.

That thought in it's self probably clearly depicts just how much I know about modern agriculture.
But I can't help but think that, were I agriculturally oriented, I would pursue it in a more old-fashioned manner.
Except I would want indoor plumbing.
No outhouses for me. No sireee.

As the patchwork of fields flew past me, I dreamed
My heart began to ache for earth.
I watched the land, speckled with cows and sheep
and I wanted so much to to be a part of it
even just for a moment
I wanted the chance to embrace life with the scent of fresh air ingrained in my nostrils...

Can you miss a life you've never known?

....


Yet as we arrived home early the next morning
Our home, surrounded by other houses
where the nearest field is used, not for the cultivation of grain, but of soccer.
I looked out at the moon and I knew.

We are where we were meant to be.
We were Home.

2 comments:

NC girl said...

?????

Megan said...

haha, I like this post :). especially since i just lived 2 school years in Ephraim, right inbetween Manti and Mt. Pleasant :D