After a second day of exploring the Vesterheim museum where we looked for the chest Shap’s mother donated, (instead of the check I mentioned in my last blog), we got up on Thursday morning and headed toward our destination Araphahoe, Nebraska toward Denver for the 3^rd.  Our plan was to stay on Route 6, taking Route 80 only if we needed to make up time. We left Wildberry Vineyard after filling up with water, and talking to the owner for several minutes. She apologized for not spending more time with us, as the grapes were in need of harvesting and help was scarce. There was no need, as everyone working at the vineyard was so friendly. I would put this down as a 4-star rating.

Miles of cornfields, windmills, grain bins, railroad crossing, small town America and the occasional train, pulling mile long containers to places unknown, marked our progress on this marathon eight-hour drive. We rated the farmers for creativity by how they planted their fields. The most artistic being the undulating cornfields.

What is it about hours on a straight road that allows your attention to wander to the landscape, to remanence of your life gone by, opportunities you could have taken, paths you are glad you didn’t, old friends and lovers, but most of all, your family you hold so dear Time is always fleeting. How did I get to the last quarter of my life so fast?

I set up dates with McKee’s friends from high school and college, to meet in Denver, and give them hugs. Shap says, I have always been the mother hen. I think is it my privilege to know they want to see me, and for me to have them in my life.  My Dad always said to make friends with young people, it will keep you young. I think of him sitting on the stairs in our house after our wedding with his arm around Steve, McKee’s buddy, hugging him and saying what a great guy Steve was. But even better was to see Steve beaming and giving hugs back, not something Steve did often. Dad brought the best and worst out of people. He could be tough, but he always loved being with my friends and his grandkids friends.  And here I am following in his footsteps, meeting “my kids” as I call them and making friends with Matilda and Tallulah’s friends, wishing that life would continue so I could be with them always.

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Today Sept 3^rd, we are sitting in our fly ridden van next to a barn, fields of corn and alpacas.We drove in the dark at 10 pm. down a long country road following our Google maps, (thank God for them) and wondering how we would have found this place otherwise. Suddenly on the side of the road was movement and a large (I think) Bard owl landed in front of our headlights. He turned his head staring directly at us, as if to say we were intruding on his road, and then flew with his great wing span into the cornfields for a night of hunting. A moment in time, a chance in a million, a glimpse into nightlife, so precious, so spiritual, a message from the universe. “You are here, at this time, in this place, this is a gift given only to the two of you, take it and carry it in your heart.” For all the hate that is happening in this world,  for all the rights being taken away from women, for all the racial injustice, for all the immigrants fleeing for their lives, we here in the middle of Nebraska sat on a country road and were handed a gift, a chance visit to remind us, we need to sit back and observe and then act with love and compassion. The owl sits on the road in our headlights, trusting that we will not hurt him. And we would not. But what about others? There are too many who would. Can they step back and observe?

Now this morning the Alpacas roam the Nebraska fields, the corn sways in the breeze, the sun is rising, painting the tops of the corn with a golden light and I am grateful for this day, for my husband who is a willing and loving partner and to be in a country free where there is water, shelter, and a safe place to sleep, or at least for most of us.

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