I knew the minute the words came out of my mouth that they were wrong. But the salt (that was either sweat or tears, or possibly both) dripped down my cheek, cracked opened my mouth, and they just slipped out into the overalled waist of my grandfather — “There’s nothing to do.” He, who always had something to do on the farm, looked down at my face. He was good about that — never saying words into the wind. “It seems you have two problems,” he said. I looked up. “One, you miss your mother.” My six year old bottom lip quivered in agreement.” He touched my ever-blonding hair. “And two, you can’t see what’s right in front of you.” I shook my head. “Figure out the second one, and that will take care of the first.” He smiled. I grabbed hold of the hammer loop on his overalls and followed him to the field. It didn’t take long to realize he was right.
Some might say we are in the middle of nowhere, as we make our way across the country. Only when I allow myself to think that, even for a brief moment, can I get lonesome. I have learned to catch myself before quivering. It’s all a summer day on the farm, I think, and take a good look around.
I have been blessed to see some of the most beautiful museums in the world. From Chicago to New York, to Amsterdam and Paris. Extraordinary! And it’s easy to get lost in all of that beauty. It would be simple to shrug off a place like Omaha, for example, our current location. But there they were. Hanging in the Joslyn Art Museum. Two paintings by Monet. In this heartland of Omaha, Nebraska. Two Monets in Omaha. I grabbed hold of the beauty, and I was saved.
