When I picture my Mom, she's always sitting on top of a tractor, out in some nameless field, with a big smile on her face and her eyes focused out somewhere far ahead, driving across with the plow hooked up and a huge cloud of dust behind her.
That's my Mom, the tractor-driver. It always impressed me that when she was a kid, she didn't want to be in the kitchen with her sisters, but out in the fields with her brothers, driving the tractor. Spunky, that. (Besides the fact that you don't have to do the dishes when you're helping outside, right?)
I think I drive like my Mom, too. Well, at least I drive like I imagine my Mom drove when she was growing up in Indiana back in the '50s. Fast. Not reckless, but fast, feeling the power of the engine and the feel of the road under the tires and the wind in my face and the shifting of the gears as my hand moves the stick...
There was this time, years ago, not too long after I'd gotten my license, and Mom was letting me drive the car back from camp, just the two of us. And we were heading down this country road out in Virginia, going along at a pretty good clip (within the speed limit, mind!), when suddenly this idiot pulls out in front of us. There was not time to stop, no time to think, barely time to react. I pulled the wheel smoothly to the left, veered into the other lane, zipped past the idiot, and then pulled back over again. Didn't even slow down. Of course, my adrenalin was pumping like crazy. And I thought for sure Mom was going to freak out, make me stop the car.
But she didn't. I'm not sure what thoughts were going through her head, but she just sat there seemingly calm as a cucumber. I think she said something like, "That was close!". But that was about it. And she let me keep driving. And we drove on home.
That's my Mom. Calm in a storm. Handles the tough times. Lots of strength in a tiny frame. And oh, so much fun to talk to!
Happy birthday, Mom! Can't wait to see you at the reunion!
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