Riptide

40.

I remember my mother's 40th birthday. I suspect she doesn't feel any younger than I do today.

I love the story my father tells about changing water before heading to the hospital with mom. (My father farms on irrigated land which require careful tending of the water to ensure the crop is watered completely...thus the need to "change" the direction of the water.)

My uncle just shared with me his memory of being out with Grandpa and changing water and watching..."You, your Mom and Dad raising dust (on that old gravel road) headed for town, so you could make your way into this world." I love this picture. I don't remember him sharing this with me before. I wonder how he can remember that familiar gravel road and the dust swirling in the air behind the pickup...and then I realize I too can visualize the picture in my mind. It is home. It is the memory of a kid. Like so much of life it is the little moments that remain the most vivid.

I remember running across the prairie barefoot with the wind in my hair. I still love being barefoot...just ask my Pittsburgh neighbor, Gary, as he was always horrified by my resistance to shoes. I remember standing on the hillside watching the prairie grass wave in the wind. I remember driving the Farmall A. I still remember the first time I hooked the rake on the back tire when I turned too sharp. I remember fishing in the stock dam as a kid. My brother always caught all the fish...even then. I remember watching my first baby lamb being born. I remember the smell of fresh hay. I remember harvest time. I remember the dark clouds rolling across the prairie and pelting us with hail and the sadness in my parents faces. I remember Thanksgiving dinner at Grandpa & Grandma's house. I remember my dad showing me the Big Dipper in the night sky. I remember walking in the pasture with mom searching for shark teeth. I remember the rainbows stretching behind the big red barn.

Now my children fill their hearts with memories of Grandma & Grandpa's house, as I can only hold them in my heart now... Another generation moves forward in the journey of life.

Another year of changes awaits. I am anxious to become an aunt again. I want to explore the varied land of California. I want to write a story. I will take my youngest daughter to kindergarten on the first day of school this fall. A new driver's license picture awaits. I hope to see the harbor seal today.

40 will bring me another year filled with memories and changes...

and as memories roll on, so do the years.