I was driving from my city life, to my old country life on Sunday. I exited the interstate, turned on to a country road and saw the signs, “Come Enjoy Easter Sunday at the Cowboy Church!” I knew there was a cowboy church not far on the left, and it made me smile as I got closer and saw all of the cars and people in the parking lot. They were fellowshipping and talking, most wearing jeans and cowboy hats, then I spotted them; two regal cowboys mounted on their horses by the drive. They looked like statues, sitting still, and serious, rugged lines across their faces, one holding an American flag and the other holding the Christian flag. It took my breath away. I forgot to breathe just for a second, as I continued on down the windy road toward my own family.
I spent the day loving on my cousins’ new babies. I played with Lea, the spitfire of a little girl, who never sits still. She hunted eggs more times that I can count. I ate more than I like to admit, and I visited, which made me realize I do not get to go it enough.
The family was there, most of us anyway. We were missing a few who live farther away and could not make it. We did get to see their Easter pictures online after lunch, and laughed and talked about how much we missed them and how fast times seems to go. We were a little nostalgic at the Easter’s past. We remembered how we had prize eggs. How my cousin Heather always seemed to find said prize egg, and how my grandpa always painted that prize egg.
We talked about our relatives present and past. We smiled at the memories and laughed at some of them. Some of them were a little more sad than others, due to we were missing so many people who have passed. I know for me, I miss my grandpa the most at Easter, due to said prize egg painting and daffodils blooming. The wind always brings the fresh scent of Spring with it, and a little twinge of sadness.
As I drove home from my Easter Sunday spent with my family, I passed a tractor cutting a field, getting it ready for planting. I thought of the cowboys again, sitting regally on their horses. They were messengers of God that day. To me, they reminded me of all of the things I am thankful for. I am thankful for all of the farmers in our nation, who provide us with the food we eat daily. They are not really cowboys, but farmers, but those cowboys symbolized so much to me.
They symbolized the past, of country weekends and nights, the present, of being both country and city, and the future, something I have yet to see. The country disappeared behind me as I veered onto the interstate, and drove toward my present and future with a little sadness. Even though I have lived in the city for over 10 years now, I will never lose that part of me that loves dirt roads, fishing holes, four wheelers, trucks, and animals. I will always want goats and chickens, maybe one day I will have them, but for now, my city life is my life, and I will live in and enjoy the present.