1.27.18

The land knows you, even when you are lost.

~ Robin Wall Kimmerer, 

Braiding Sweetgrass

     My sister Molly turned 22 this past Saturday. My mom, my other sister, and a few various relatives of questionable character made the 2+ hour trip to surprise her at college. I was going to go with the evening before, but as events unfolded I ended up making the drive up the next morning by myself. They told Molly I wasn't coming because I was called in to work at the last minute, so it was a surprise when I showed up the next morning, holding a giant pink troll pillow in front of my face at that. (I would have screamed too, had I been on the receiving end of that situation.)

     Heading out in the early morning by myself, heading eastward on I-86, I was reminded of the weeks last Spring when I drove my neighbor to her therapy appointments. She loved my little truck, and raved on and on about how wonderful it was. We would talk the entire hour it took to get there, and the entire hour back, stopping at the gas station on the Indian reservation to fuel up because at the time it was 30 cents cheaper there than at home.

     I thought of that, and then as I drove further into less familiar territory, through one county after another, I thought of the day two years ago when my sister Sadie and I went to visit my cousin where he goes to school. We took some of the very same back roads I was driving then.

     I flipped through local radio stations, caught some of American Pie on one, the tail end of Hotel California on another. I sped through areas where the speed limit wasn't marked. I was giddy with pleasure, because it was a beautiful morning and I was on the road where I wanted to be.

     When you're on the road, you pick up a little piece of every place you pass through. That's why I like to go the back roads rather than the straight, boring Interstate; you see more of the real world that way. Big farms, double-wide trailers, and pristine Amish houses lined the road at intervals. The poorest county in NY state is also the most beautiful. And maybe this is just me, but when I've been someplace, no matter how long ago it was, if I ever pass there again I'll remember. It's weird, almost like a sixth sense. The sense of direction.

     What is it about the land?

     When I was growing up, and still now (well, I guess I'm still growing up, :) I always had an acute awareness of the land. Maybe because I grew up working with it. People want a nice house, nice car, nice clothes. I want all of that too, of course, but I always wanted land. I wanted to see it and explore it and own it. The beautiful thing, too, is that you don't even have to own it; as long as you have feet, or wheels, anyplace you go to becomes yours. At least that's the way I've always felt about it.

     After being at school all week, and working, and trying to prove things to people that I'm not too sure of myself, it was life-giving to get behind the wheel and just go. The places I've been make me feel welcomed with familiar feelings, and the places I see for the first time offer me something I've never had before.

     It's the little things like this I think the Lord gives us when He knows we need to be reminded. :)

******

     The birthday celebration was very nice. I don't have any pictures to show for it because the storage on my phone is completely full, but it involved our first-ever experience with Air B'nB, shopping for a wedding dress (not for my sister) (for me) (JUST KIDDING), and trading keys and driving other people's cars. I didn't get to see my sister nearly enough but I'm still glad I got to see her at all. :) Mercifully they went to Panera Bread the night before I got there.

     Now it's back to the daily grind.... How was your weekend?

~ Emma

On the eve of your birthday.

     Tomorrow's your birthday. And I'm gonna write something tonight because I have to go to work in the morning and I might not get it done.

     How did we get here?

     I'm sentimental and ornery and you're creative and bouncy. You knew me when I was quiet -- when I used to mostly talk on the internet, before I started listening to country which had to be a hundred years ago -- and you were eager to learn and way too excited. You liked my name and I liked how you signed with x's. Something clicked inside and suddenly we were friends. How did it happen?

     We wrote tons and tons of emails and you saw the other sides of me and I finally memorized all your siblings' names. We wrote and wrote and dreamed and planned. One spring day I drove with my mom to the airport and there you were coming out of the terminal, and I swear my heart leaped and got caught somewhere around my throat. I don't think they like it when you scream in airports. But hugging you for the first time was one of the biggest things that's ever happened to me, and you know how we are -- we have to scream.

     Remember the ferris wheel and the hotel steps and the strawberries and the kittens and the kayaking and the bookstores? And singing Stars in the van with all of us kids? Grandpa made us popcorn and Mrs. H said you had lovely teeth. (You do.) Everyone thought your accent was the coolest ever and I don't know how many times I said, "This is my friend, Naomi, she's visiting from Belgium." And I was so proud to say it, and to introduce you as my best friend.

     I never had a best friend before you. I'll never have one after you either, cuz you're my best best friend.

     And now I've known you for four years and you're eighteen. (Or, you will be in a few hours.) Eighteen, and beautiful with frizzy brown hair and laughing eyes. Eighteen with a heart ready to serve and hands ready to work. Eighteen with a deep love for your family and for your God.

     You inspire me every day, and that's not a joke. You make me want to be a nicer person and a better writer and a more faithful Follower, and you make me want to take lots of pictures and eat lots of ice cream and talk to little boys and make people smile, because you make me smile. You're like no one else I know -- you're totally unique and totally weird and totally genuine.

    I'm cowgirl boots and you're tennis shoes; I'm horses and dogs and you're sparkles and washi tape. We're so different. You don't get my gory westerns and I was freaked out by Call the Midwife. But we're okay, you and me, and I am blessed beyond reason and anything I deserve to have you. Have fun watching P&P with your girls and eating garlic bread; I'm wishing dreadfully that I was there, but you'll have fun without me and someday soon we'll see each other again.

     Happy birthday Naomi! <3

     Love,
      ~Emma