One of my own most cherished memories is lying in bed in the mornings while Mom made breakfast. There was always something hot and cooked: oatmeal, or pancakes or toast with scrambled eggs. Usually the washer and dryer would be going. Mom and Dad would talk just loud enough for me to hear their voices but not their words. The back door always squeaked when Dad went outside to milk the cow. By the time he came back inside, breakfast was ready and my brother and I were up.

There’s something to be said for farm life. My parents worked hard. Besides running the ranch, Dad worked in the oil fields. Mom worked for a fabric store, ran a very successful preschool and finally went back to work for the school district as a speech pathologist. I know now they got tired sometimes and stressed over finances that never stretched far enough. But I didn’t know it then. The world seemed like a simpler place because, when everything else was wrong, there was stillness on the farm. It felt like love.

Maybe that’s the real reason I’m so rooted in North Dakota. Although I live at the edge of town, I appreciate that a five-minute walk will get me into the wide open prairie. Agriculture is still a top industry here. Green and gold fields wrap around me. The earth beneath my feet feels good and solid, and there’s enough air space that I can hear myself think. I feel content, secure and happy, like someone bigger than I am is taking care of me.

I’m thinking about that now because my children are both in bed, the dryer is going and all is right with the world.