My grandmother lived most of her life as a farmer’s wife. While there were many things she loved about the farm, inherently, she was more of a city slicker.

She never complained about life on the farm — after all, everyone she loved was there. But if she’d had her druthers, I believe Grandma would have opted for the bright lights of the city, rather than the star lights of the country. She never said it, but as I’ve grown older, I just know.

Once a year, my grandmother would leave the slow-paced life and her family behind for about a week and travel to Colorado with her best friend. It was a big deal for her and an even bigger deal for a young granddaughter who cried every time she left. I remember her getting ready to go, the look of absolute bliss on her face, and the smile she wore as she waved good-bye to us. If I had been inside the car as it pulled away, I’m probably sure I would have heard an “aaahhh” as she left behind a rambunctious trio of kids; a farm full of animals, crops, dinner preparations and worries; and a farmer husband whose idea of a “trip” or a “vacation” was a drive to Kewanee to go to the S&H Green Stamp store.