The Hired Hand

Staring out the car window, watching city after city go by, wondering why I ever agreed to going home. I know why I said yes but now, after the feelings of guilt went away, I'm regretting it. My friends have already started posting pictures of their trips to the lake featuring tanning, boating and tubing. I'd rather be there. I wanted to have one last summer of relaxing before returning to what will be the last year of college. One last chance to have fun before worrying about finding a career. Don't get me wrong, I love my parents and where I came from but they told me to leave to find a better life. So I did. At first, I missed the loud tractors roaring to life or the cows bellowing when they knew it was time for fresh hay. The longer I've been away, the more I fell in love with the city life. I no longer had to wake up, rushing out to finish chores before beginning a never ending to do list. Instead, I could leisurely wander to the kitchen, brewing a cup of my favorite caramel blended coffee, before taking a shower. I traded my dented, multicolored Silverado for a nice navy blue, SUV. My closet is overrun with clothes that I've barely worn and shoes for every occasion. Growing up on the farm, left me used to hand me downs and limited clothing options. I've worked hard to get where I am today. So why was I going back? The taxi slowed down, making a turn onto a worn dirt path, that I know will take me to my childhood home. As the car crawls down the quarter mile long driveway, I can see the multiple barns coming into view. The yard is still filled with equipment that doesn't run and in the distance there's a swingset grown over with weeds. As I climb out of the car, I notice the humidity. My hair is instantly sticking to my neck, reminding me that I could be cooling off at the lake but no. I gave up the lake, for this.