Full Circle

As I was driving home from work today, it occurred to me that some things in my life had come full circle.

When I was growing up, I had a boyfriend (let’s call him “S”). I dated him from when I was a sophomore in high school until I was a sophomore in college, when I met B. This man’s family was farmers. His father, his grandfather, and his grandfathers before them farmed the same land. At one time, they had a large operation, with dairy cattle, hogs and a lot of crops. While the operation had been scaled down some, they were working to build it back up. His grandfather had become a seed dealer, and the two sons had taken over the operation. S hoped to take over the operation from his father and his uncle, and farm full-time. As it was, his uncle’s wife worked off the farm to support the family, and his father worked full time also, as a truck driver. S went to college and studied agriculture in hopes that he could save his family’s farm from the crisis that occurred in the mid 80’s.

S was very independent, which was not so much a function of being the child of a farmer than being the child of his father, who was somewhat dysfunctional. S worked non-stop on the farm, as a junior in high school I remember him putting in 20-hour days, week after week. He did poorly in school and there were times that he and I did not see each other for weeks, and even then it was often because I chose to come to his farm and spend time with him there. He did not live in my town and go to my school, he lived about 40 minutes from me.

While S and I were not right for each other, he did teach me a whole lot about farming. I helped where I could (the summer of 2005 was NOT the first time I baled hay). He taught me a lot about implements and what they were used for. I know quite a lot about dairy farming and how that whole process works. I have milked cows, and I have nurtured piglets. I remember so clearly one day after we had stacked the hay in the haymow, just lying on our backs, resting, feeling the breeze come in one side of the mow and out the other. I remember the tiniest kittens running about in the haymow—it seems they lived their entire lives up there.

I will not forget that day, not because of anything that has to do with S, but because the feel, the smell, and the sounds just radiated peace. When I was in labor, I focused on a peaceful place. Not Hawaii, not a hot tub, not even the Eiffel Tower—I focused on that day in the haymow. Peace and tranquility.

One thing I disliked about S’s chosen field was that his car always stank. He had a white Trans Am, and he let me drive it anytime I wanted. I would drive it home and keep it for the weekend (sounds crazy now!). But it was the roving pigmobile. It stank like livestock, and there was no getting rid of the smell. He would always say, “Oh, L, it smells like money!” But truthfully, I think he could not smell it as strongly as I could.

This past weekend B cleaned out the barn for me, as I had to work. He cleaned out the horse stalls to the bare earth (no small feat). He bought fresh bedding and hay, and stacked it all in the barn. However, he did drive my car (a SUV) to accomplish all of this. I drove it Sunday, and when I got in, I immediately smelled manure. I forgot about it, as I was (appropriately) taking L to 4H. However, as I drove to work today in my new Evan Piccone suit, I was considering that I likely looked great, but smelled like a barn, and that, like S, I could probably not even smell the full impact.

As I was driving home, I was reminded of the same thought. I stopped and washed my car—shampooing the carpets even. But I did stop to think about how the smell was different this time. In 1986 I was headed down the path of least resistance. I had a boyfriend, we had plans for marriage, and my life was laid out in front of me. I would not go to college, (or if I did, I’d stay close to home). I’d be a farmer’s wife and put my heart and soul into the farm.

Today, in my thoughts, I decided that my leaving him was not about resentment of being a farmer’s wife, it was about wanting to choose my life. I wanted to be in charge of my future, and not have decisions made for me because of my husband’s family, or what was expected. Ironically, even though I did not choose S, I am drawn back to farming. And, even more ironically, I am able to put to use some of the knowledge he passed along to me.

So today, I find myself searching again for that peaceful place. I see glimpses of it now and then, so I know it’s here. But this time, the peace will be on my terms.