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The Old Wagon Ruts

Have you ever wondered what it would be like out there on the Oregon Trail so many years ago?  Heading west --- heading forward to your hopes and dreams?  Leaving behind everyone and everything you owned and loved --- in some cases for always. Riding -- walking -- dreaming --- hoping --- for hours -- for days -- for months.  On and on into what seemed like nothingness.

Well -- for the last few weeks my job has been cutting and raking prairie grass in a pasture.  I love that job because I just go round and round and dream and think.  I could see, in my minds eye, two old worn ruts going on and on up through the grass into the western horizon --- so I put myself on the hard old wagon seat beside my husband --- and we were going west.  Out there on the tractor, I saw and felt the effects of being in the covered wagon as I went round and round cutting that hay.  So -- I will try to take you with me as we go west to find our dream.

You set straight and tall there beside your husband on the hard wooden seat of your "home" for many months.  It is a wagon covered with white canvas and in it is everything you own.  You are heading west --- leaving father, mother sisters and brothers -- perhaps for always.

All around you is tall grass waving in the wind --- sometimes trees --- sometimes nothing but open prairies -- with a patch of white "snow on the mountain" flowers dotting the horizon here and there -- going on and on --- as far as the eye can see.  Grass and the old ruts -- proof that other wagon trains had traveled the same route.  Behind you and in front -- you see other wagons as they rock back and forth moving slowly on. 

It is rough out there on the prairie.  Your body sways -- back and forth -- back and forth -- to the rhythm of the wagon.  Bouncing -- bumping -- jarring.  Once in awhile the old wagon wheel will fall in a hole-- bounce -- throwing you a little to the left -- straighten up -- now to the right-- bouncing --- bumping --- swaying back and forth -- as the day gets hot and the old wooden seat gets harder.  Your stomach gets a bit woozy and your back -- it is so tired from bumping back and forth.

Maybe walking would feel good for awhile.-- so down you hop -- stretching your arms and legs and moving your head this way and that -- you start to walk.  Your not dressed in shorts and a t-shirt.  Your wearing a long dress and button up high boots --- with a sun bonnet tied under your chin.  Sometimes it can be hot --- 105 with the sun shining down on you.  Still -- on you walk -- kicking up dust -- or tripping over clumps of grass.  on and on and on---

How heavenly -- when the sun gets low in the western skies.  The day starts to cool down.  They are starting to stop for the night.  You are sweaty -- dirty -- stiff and tired.  You can't just "hop in the tub" and relax.  First there is the meal to fix.  Then water to haul and dishes to wash and put away.  Where will YOU wash up?  In the creek -- or in the old tub after hauling water from the creek?  What do you do with these dirty cloths?  Put them in the "dirty pile"  -- or wear them tomorrow?

There is a special beauty -- as the sun sets in the western skies and night comes on.  All those wagons in a circle --- the lights of camp fires glowing here and there.  Little children running around glad to be stopped for the day.  The sound of the coyote -- or the song of the bull frog down at the creek -- or the sound of the locust.  You can look up into the heavens and there you see millions and millions of stars glittering down at you.  What beauty when the full moon hangs low in the eastern skies --- all orange and big.

Your bed is a mattress in the wagon among everything else.  Sometimes you sleep beside your husband -- sometimes you lay there in the dark alone -- hoping he is safe as he keeps watch through the night.

As the sun starts to tint the eastern sky -- another day is starting.  How far will you get today you ask yourself?  Will everything go well? -- or will a wagon wheel come loose -- or someone become sick -- or a baby be born into our world of grass -- and hot -- and wind ---and dirt?  You climb out the back of the wagon and your nose picks up coffee already boiling on the hot coals.  Stretching your already sore body -- you prepare for yet another day on the good old trail.

Sometimes I wonder how many little graves are along those old ruts?  How many babies were born in those covered wagons?  How many old pianos -- bed frames -- tables --- chairs -- old trunks -- set forgotten among the tall grasses?  How many dreams were crushed and gone because a wagon lost control?

Plenty -- I'm sure -- but they were brave and strong and determined.  They were able to make it through rough and hard and long days because they all had one thing in common --- a dream.








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