Page 49 of Heartbeats & Highways

“Yeah, I did.”

“In Texas?”

“In Oklahoma. Near Broken Bow.” I snuggled against him.

“And your husband . . . how did you meet him?”

“I really don’t want to talk about him,” I stated.

“Okay.” He shrugged like it didn’t bother him. “Tell me more about the farm. What was it like?”

“Smelly,” I joked.

“Do you know how to milk goats?”

I sighed. “Yes. And cows.”

He smiled. “What about chickens?”

“You don’t milk chickens.”

“No . . . did you collect eggs?”

“Yes. And I killed roosters too. Anything else you want to know?”

He scratched his ear. “Did you like it?”

“Parts of it,” I admitted.

“Like what?”

“The self-sufficiency. We had a garden, some fruit trees, our own meat.” I shrugged. “It’s hard, I guess. Busy. There was always something to do. Some project that needed to be done.”

“Do you miss it?”

“I don’t miss being bound to it.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, when you live on a farm there are animals that rely on you. Rain or shine. They’ll take care of you and provide, but you have to take care them too. It’s a lot of work.”

“Sounds like it.”

“I’m not sure how I feel about the city just yet.”

“No?”

“Everything is both easy and hard. Does that make sense?”

“Not really.”

I smiled. “It’s loud, too. Very loud. I’m still not used to the noise.”

“So, you prefer farm life, even with all its cons?”

“I understand farm life. I’m not sure I understand city life. It all feels so . . . I don’t know. Working hard feels different in the city. It feels insurmountable, actually.”

“Explain that to me.”

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