The Hired Hand

Settling In

All of a sudden the patio door swung open with a creak and out rushed my mother. She immediately wrapped me in a hug, looking just as lovely as I remembered. Her eyes were brown with golden flecks, that when she smiled seemed to brighten even more. Her hair was in the same shoulder length cut but with more grey showing against the light brown highlights. The plaid apron that protects her dress, appeared covered in flour from what I'm sure is more cookies than anoyone should ever eat.

Not far behind her was my father. He stands just taller than me and although he looks the same, you can tell he's aging harder. There's an obvious limp when he's walking. A constant reminder of the day a cow decided she didn't want to be loaded into a trailer. We are lucky he managed to get away with just a shattered leg.

Dad always wears the same, worn out cowboy hat, genuine leather. His plaid shirt is tucked neatly into his faded jeans, just as they have always been for as long as I can remember.

Just as we started inside, I noticed the tractor sounding in the distance.

"Dad, is someone borrowing the tractor?"

"That's just Derek, I had to hire someone to help out with the chores after you went off to school. He's a real nice man, hoping to get into farming on his own eventually."

Tossing the direction of the noise a glance, I can just make out someone climbing onto the seat.

As soon as I enter the house, the smell hits me. Mom had purposely baked my favorite sugar cookies. My mouth began to water at the aroma wafting through the air. I've been surving on Ramen noodles and take out for so long, I forgot how good actual food smells. I grabbed a handful of cookies and continued to lug my bags down the hall to my room.

When I opened the door, I was met with the same room I grew up with. A small window stood directly across from the doorway, trying to offer some light into the space. My twin mattress sat on the white, iron wrought frame. The light blue comforter was freshly washed and smelled of fresh linen. The dresser was off to the right, still covered in ribbons from various 4-h projects over the years. The drawers still held some of my worn out chore clothes. Mostly consisting of faded boot cut jeans, flannel shirts and tank tops.

"Anna?" called my mom from the kitchen.

"If you're done settling in, it sure would be nice if you could run out to the barn and grab some milk for supper."

"Sure, mom. I'll go right now." I replied back, not bothering to change.