Writing My Name

Writing My Name

“You don’t have to love this land,” said Maggie.  “But if you don’t love it, you  won’t survive.  Jacob’s right. You have to write your name in the land to live here.” Sarah didn’t speak. She took a handful of dry prairie grass in her hands, letting it crumble through her fingers.  Then she walked away from us, through the dried grass, out onto the brown prairie that stretched all the way to the sky.  She stood there all alone until Papa went to tell her it was time to go home. 

-From the book ‘Skylark’

 

I’ve thought a lot through the years about Sarah and her inner turmoil:

 

Leaving behind her green home by the ocean, giving up cool climates and scores of trees.

Embracing her life on the dry prairie in order to raise a family,

have a place that was hers and to make a good home.

We have a lot in common.

I wrote some of my thoughts about her here.

 

Sarah chose to write her name in the land.

So do I.

 

 

Life’s been busy, but while out planting my garden (beneath a full moon rising in the east) and without fanfare; I wrote my name in our land.

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