James Bates |
Traveling
from the East he came upon a tiny graveyard. It'd been nearly six hundred miles
driving and, as he coasted to a stop outside the gate and turned off the
engine, silence enveloped the car like a warm blanket. That and the billowing
clouds of dust driven by the relentless prairie wind.
The old graveyard was situated on a low hill and located a mile outside the
small town of Adair. He took a moment to collect himself, having driven
straight through from Minnesota, following an uncontrollable desire to learn
more about his great-grandparents. And his roots. He lit a cigarette and
smoked, trying to imagine what they'd gone through, traveling as they had,
first from New York state all the way to Iowa and then across the great plains
out here to the middle of nowhere. Nebraska. Their courage astounded him, Wyatt
Plank, a guy who had yet to find himself let alone set off on the type of
perilous journey his great grandparents had undertaken in the 1850s.
He snubbed out his smoke, got out to the car, and let himself in through the
gate of the worn and rusted chain link fence that surrounded the desolate, half-acre
plot. Once inside he wandered aimlessly, studying the worn markers, marveling
at how old they were and thinking, doesn’t anyone get buried here anymore?
Then he had a thought: Maybe there's no one around to die and get buried.
For some reason, the idea saddened him.
He continued searching until he found his great-grandmother, a causality of a
wagon train heading to California, her stone battered by over a century of wind-driven
sand and debris. He knelt on the compacted ground and put his hand on her
battered marker feeling at once a mysterious connection with her. He read the
faint inscription: "Katherine Marie Plank. Beloved wife and mother. Born
1824 and Died 1856." After Katherine's death his great grandfather had
buried her on this spot and returned to Iowa with his three children, never to
return. Years later after the town was settled his great-grandmother's lonely
grave became the home of Adair's cemetery. How Wyatt's life might have been
different if his great-grandfather had buried his wife and then continued west.
Overwhelmed by the breadth of his family's pioneering spirit and that of his
great-grandmother in particular, Wyatt got to his feet and looked to the
horizon. All around was the tamed land of corn and wheat fields, framed by an
endless sky so blue it hurt his eyes. He pulled the visor of his baseball cap
down low and, though he wasn't religious by any means, stood in respectful
silence and said a quiet prayer for the courage of his ancestors.
When he was finished his thoughts were unsettled. He'd completed his quest,
seen his great-grandmother, and paid homage to her courage and spirit, but now
what? What should he do next? He didn't know. He was divorced. He didn't have
any children. He had a job that he didn't particularly care for. In short, he
had nothing.
The wind whipped up a sudden gust and blew his cap off. He cracked a ghost of a
smile, thinking that at least he had something to do. He chased it down,
capturing it up against the western fence line where he put it on and pull it
tight. He was walking back to his great-grandmother's grave to say one final
goodbye when the wind shifted again ever so subtly, causing him to lose his
balance. He caught himself as he stumbled and wondered what was going on. A
storm brewing maybe? But no, one look to the blue sky. and the answer was
clear: no storms, not even a cloud in sight.
The wind suddenly gusted again and blew a little harder, seeming to nudge him
like a guiding hand, pushing him gently, as if it wanted to show him the way,
the next steps to take. He looked to the west and watched dust devils dancing
down a lonely country road. Beyond that, the far horizon seemed to call to him,
drawing him in, like weather-beaten fingers tugging at his soul, just like they
had for his ancestors.
It took him only a moment to decide. Why not? I've got nothing to
lose.
He got into his car, started it up, and left the windswept
cemetery. He turned on the first road heading west. He'd made his decision and
his path was clear. It was time to complete the journey his ancestors had begun
so many years ago.
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