Today’s prompt stirs a rare longing for home — the place of my growing up. Soon after I created commonchapters, I shared a piece I’d written about my dad, a high plains wheat farmer who worked the soil, prayed for rain, and loved his family. The prompt for today reminds me of him. Reminds me “Where I’m From,” too, another piece I’ve written (poetry this time) about those days gone by that bear much weight on who I am now.
‘Home’ conjures images of wheat fields, a farmhouse kitchen, blue skies for miles. ‘Soil,’ the admonition to ‘grow where you’re planted’ — a little phrase of song my mom repeated as she planted her yearly garden; a little phrase of song I murmur as I plant a shrub, a lily or decorative grass. (I am particularly fond of the grass whose headed seed looks a smidge like bearded wheat — surprise, surprise…) ‘Rain’ falls when and where it will. As Eponine sings with her dying breaths, “a little fall of rain helps the flowers grow.” The wheat too.
Home. The place of roots growing deep in the soil of endless days spent dreaming of what has been, and what’s yet to come. And the blessings rain down.