Dad

So I was prepared to grieve Mom today, I wasn't prepared to find myself remembering Dad. Dad was a city boy, but his mom had grown up on a farm, and he loved the fact that I was living in the country. Daughter and I (and the rest of the county) went out for ice cream this evening. As we were coming home, I was looking at the winter wheat and the corn, which is just up. If Dad were alive, he'd want to know that the wheat is looking good and the corn is up. He always asked me about the crops when we talked about the phone.

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Last fall, as he was dying, he kept asking me about the status of the harvest. He didn't have a good grasp on timing, and so he started asking way early. Every phone conversation, he'd want to know about the crops. "Have your farmers started on the corn?"

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"Not yet, Dad."

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"Are they going to have a good harvest?"

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"It's hard to tell. The crops are very uneven-- some look great, others look terrible."

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So this evening I looked at the fields and wished I could call and tell him how good the wheat looks, or that it's that time of year when the corn is just up enough to give the fields a hint of green as you look across them. He would want to know, and I really want to tell him.