And so it was today, we formerly laid Grandma June to rest (although we know she is far from resting, but twirling around heaven’s dance floor in Grandpa’s arms). Her service was all Grandma, from favorite, familiar hymns like “For the Beauty of the Earth” to the ballroom classic “Moonlight Serenade”.
She had chosen long ago, pieces she wanted read, and we heard from close family friends “The Nightingale Tribute” about nurses and “Little Parable for Mothers” about motherhood.
But it was this reading that resonated with me, a farmer’s wife, a farmer’s granddaughter, a farmer’s daughter – “Love Letter”.
Does it sound dull, this way of life?
To spend all my years as a farmer’s wife?
With a garden to hoe and chickens to tend,
dishes to wash and britches to mind.
Canning and cleaning and washing to do,
a husband to love and some children too.
Neighbors to talk to and help when they are down.
Fields to watch as the seasons go ’round.
Should I ever leave this, I’d miss it so.
I felt so right as a farmer’s wife.
(We are unsure of the author as Grandma had typed this piece on a torn sheet of paper, labeled “Love Letter”.